


Vincent, Undefined

by TheArtOfBlossoming



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Bi-Curiosity, Bisexual Male Character, Multi, Parenthood, Sentinel General Vincent 'Nate' Hudson, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 76,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtOfBlossoming/pseuds/TheArtOfBlossoming
Summary: Staff Sergeant Vincent 'Nate' Hudson was a decorated soldier, a husband, a father. He lost everything that he had left with one cold blow of fate.When he awakens from cryostasis, he finds himself in a cruel world that seems determined to slowly strip him of everything he once was... and thought that he was.
Relationships: Magnolia/Male Sole Survivor, Male Sole Survivor/Sole Survivor's Spouse, Robert Joseph MacCready/Male Sole Survivor
Comments: 125
Kudos: 27





	1. Holotape A - Emergence

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on my second character generation of Vin as the first game saves (at around level 122) succumbed to the dreaded 0kb bug. Because my series 'Vincent, Redefined' starts later on in the game, this fic is a prequel, again based on my actual gameplay. Now the trick is to do the significant quests in the right order!
> 
> To see chapter by chapter illustrative screenshots from the actual gameplay, visit my Tumblr and search tags for 'vincent undefined' here: https://theartofblossoming.tumblr.com/post/627270606743830528/new-fic-a-prequel-to-vincent-redefined

Testing…testing…this old thing still workin'? 

[Rewind. Play. _Testing…testi*crackle*ng…this old thing still workin'?_ ]

Good enough. Okay, well… guess this'll be just like therapy. Um, my name's 'Nate'.. no, scratch that. My name is Vincent. Vincent Nathaniel Hudson. I am… was.. a Staff Sergeant in the U.S. military. My family… no. I'm no longer married. I don't even know if I'm still a father or not… our son, Shaun… he was taken. I fell for a fucking con, got trapped in a science experiment gone wrong... *crackle* [sigh].

Two hundred odd years. I can barely process it all still. Giant bugs, skeletons everywhere…Codsworth is still goin'. At least his guarantee was good. Me? I'm all out of guarantees.

I don't know who I am anymore. I know I'm not Nate, not without Nora… oh god. Nora… She always used to call me by my army nickname. Codsworth still calls me Mr. Vincent, though. I guess I have that, at least. My name.

There's no army left, as far as I can tell. Ran across some refugees, fought off some troublemakers with them. What did they call 'em? Raiders. Yeah, that was it. They were filthy, stank like hobos, bad teeth, scarred ta hell and weren't any of 'em more'n forty years old. Less, maybe.

I'm gathering weapons. Got an automatic ten mil but not enough rounds. Risking using what look to be homemade pipe weapons. Found a mutt who's pretty good in a fight. Dogmeat, the ol' lady said his name was. Creepy old lady but she reckon's my Shaun is still alive 'cause she can feel his energy. Nora'd dismiss her. I was the one who read the horoscopes in the back of the Bugle. We also used to predict the weather with what colour Fusion Flea was rattling down the street, me an' Vonnie. It was stupid and silly but also pretty damn accurate. 

Not even a Flea struggling down the highway anymore. No bikes, no cars, no 'birds, no planes. The lack of engine noise is deafening.

I'm not sure if I dreamed fighting that giant horned lizard or if really did. The deer and the cows all seem to have two heads now so compared to that, I guess that means I wasn't dreamin'.

I've put a bed in the old Red Rocket across the bridge. I can't sleep in our old house, not even in a neighbor's. Preston and his friends are welcome to it. Sturges seems like a solid guy. He's set up at Ms. Rosa's old place. I helped them get established but I need to find this place called Diamond City. Never heard of it an' I grew up in Boston. They tell me it isn't far.

There's a diner near the old passion pit… think I took Nora there for a milkshake one time. Now they don't serve anything but junk and chems. I might need a hit now and then. No point in being too sober anymore, not if it can help me get past the violent, mutated madness and get my son back. Not psycho though. Never again. I can't afford to end up rocking on the floor like Trudy's boy…. or worse.

My baby boy's out there somewhere. Gotta think straight. I need better weapons, armor, ammo. I need money… ha! Bottlecaps. What in the honest fuck? I guess paper just burns and all the loose change was smelted into bullets a hundred years ago.

I left the mutt at Sanctuary. He can take care of himself, that boy but he reminds me of our dog. Never did find her. Codsworth accompanied me when a farming couple needed some raiders taking care of. We'd already cleared out the old satellite station but those weren't the dicks forcing the farmers to pay tribute.

I almost bit off more than I could chew. Corvega is one huge maze and there must have been twenty raiders in there at least, plus their turrets. Codsworth must be related to a Mister Gutsy because he seemed to be enjoying himself. I can't take how he's scowling at me though, the judgemental Jeeves. 

The Tenpines couple decided to join the Minutemen. I guess that makes me one too but nobody ever said as much. I may have implied that I was… I'm really just helping Garvey out. Nice guy. Reminds me of someone I used to know.

So Preston Garvey asked me to be a leader. Way to jump the gun, fella. I don't mind helping out, I might hear about a kidnapped baby boy along the way. Might get better gear if I do. There's traders - I counted four so far, plus a doctor. I might need a doc from time to time, what with the giant fucking crabs and flies the size of small dogs. I just hope I don't run into any mosquitos.

Alright. Rest, food, Rad-X and I'll see if I can't improve on the weapons and armor I've got so far. Gotta find more adhesive. Gears an' oil too. 

Jun and Marcy lost their son. That explains Marcy's bitter tirades. Jun is just depressed. Kyle. His name was Kyle. I can't afford to be so bitter I choke on it, nor so depressed I get stuck. Damn but I bet if I can find an unopened bottle of whiskey it'll have aged well. I could really, really use a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the Fusion Flea weather prediction system is based on a game my brother and I played with Volkswagen Beetles. See a dark blue one, clear skies later. Orange? Warm. Red? It's going to be hot. Grey or light blue? Rain. It was spooky how accurate it was!


	2. Holotape B: Not The Man I Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready's thoughts on his new client and Vincent's holo-journal entry about his progress. Codsworth disliked that.

**Under My Hat - The New Client**

Lucy used to say I kept my real thoughts under my hat. I guess I do. It's safer that way. I'm not one to write a journal or record a holotape; I can find pen and paper easy enough but you'd need a terminal or one of them fancy PIP-boys to make a holo. Paper or plastic, those things just end up littering the place anyhow. Who knows who'll read 'em? No way, I'll keep my thoughts right here, thankyou very much, safe in the caverns of my mind.

Thinking of PIP-boys, my new boss has one. _Weener_ and _Barnacle_ tried to scare me outta the Commonwealth the other day. Truth be told, I was almost pissing my pants. If I can't stay and make enough caps here to get to Med-Tek and try again, where am I gonna go? Time's running out for Duncan. I can't afford to leave now, even if that means treading on Gunner toes. Fu..frag them. Frag their toes, too. 

When they turned to leave the V.I.P. room, I had to stifle a laugh. I thought it was Charlie for a second, blocking their exit but it was the Vault Dweller's butler-bot. Codswallop or somethin'. Anyway, the Big Blue Jumpsuit just glared at Winlock. I think he was actually intimidated by a Vaultie in a cowboy hat! Well, the guy _is_ pretty huge. How does anyone get that much muscle? Bet he hadn't skipped a meal in his sheltered life.

I instantly knew I liked this guy. Of course, I'm not about to tell him that. He just looked at me with those sad green eyes and I stupidly agreed to charge fifty caps _under_ my fee. How the hell did that happen? Better make sure we get a fifty-fifty split on the loot… and I might _accidentally_ lose one or two items he gets me to carry. About fifty caps' worth, say. Can't afford to start going soft.

______________________________________________  
 **Holotape B**

I decided to go look for this 'Diamond City'. I know that Boston changed whilst I was away serving my country and I didn't see too much of it before Shaun arrived… less, after… but now? The city is a tangled, mangled mess. After I'd persuaded Trudy at the Drumlin to just pay that Wolfgang creep to avoid a fight, I wondered if I hadn't done it to make sure I knew somewhere to get Buffout from. The itch came back and I don't have the strength to fight it right now.

So yeah, walking cross-country, shooting the ugliest mutts and hideous shambling things that used to be human - must be the 'feral ghouls' that Garvey mentioned - we ran into raiders wearing old army gear and others wearing scrap metal and sack cloth hoods. We got turned around several times and I used far too many stimpaks. 

Finally, running from some deep-voiced enemies I didn't see but whose territory was marked with grisly chain-wrapped parcels, we saw the sign for Goodneighbor. I ran through that door.

Some guy tried to play some extortion racket and got shivved by the Mayor. Hancock, like the historical figure. I think the ghoul was even wearing the costume I saw in the museum, once. Man, the guy's face… looked like it hurts, if he has any nerve endings left in it. No nose or ears and pupils blown wide… or his eyeballs themselves had turned black. Hard to say. It was quite the welcome… and a very clear statement. Not a threat as such but a very definite line was drawn.

I sold the extra junk, badly made weapons and armor we'd stripped off the bodies. Some of the two century old irradiated food, too. Much as the thought of eating giant horsefly and swollen naked molerat brought bile to the back of my throat, Garvey gave me some tips to prepare the meat and frankly, I'll take grilled molerat and baked bloatfly over Instamash that makes my PIP-boy click louder than a stadium full o' castanets.

I think I found the only bar for miles around. Unless this Diamond City has one. There was live music too, a blues singer with a sparkling red dress. I could almost ignore the fact the bar was in the old Scollay Square subway station. "The Third Rail". Well, at least the whiskey has aged well. 

Some guy assumed I was looking for a merc called MacCready as I went in, then the Mr. Handy barkeep offers me a job. Not an honest nine to five but a _job_ , as if I'm a hired gun. Well, I'm sure as hell no Staff Sergeant anymore. Might as well be a mercenary… as long as I get to choose the work. I need the gear to find my son, maybe hire some help. If Codsworth had a nose he'd have stuck it in the air. As it is, he told me I wasn't the man he knew. Two hundred years and my Mr. Handy has developed a snide personality. Great. 

The merc was facing off against a couple of bullies. I knew their type. I'd taken so many of their kind down a peg or three in the army, I have to hand it to this MacCready, he stood his ground. I decided to take a chance and hired the guy without so much as a trip to a shooting range to test his skill. Managed to shave fifty caps off his fee, though. I've sent Codsworth back to Sanctuary. He'll be more use and last longer up there.

[*Crackle*]

So we snuck over to the warehouses after an early night at the Hotel. I'm glad I misspent hours of my youth learning to pick locks to get into uncle Ryan's liquor cabinet, I got us in through the three doors quick and quiet. The 'rats' turned out to be mobsters, tommy guns and all. Have to admit I felt a bit like the Silver Shroud. MacCready proved his skills, too: he's damn good with that rifle. He holds it the most effective way, too, not the way we were drilled to use one. He's a natural. Went through a few stimpaks but we can afford to buy more now.

I picked up a hunting rifle from the assaultron, KL-E0. Not great in itself but a good base for a sniper rifle of my own. I improved it as much as I could. Gonna need a lot of screws and adhesive. Half my pack is full of different guns as I don't have enough ammo for any of 'em.

Gonna head back up to Red Rocket, see how much we can scavenge along the way then sell a bunch at Drumlin Diner before trying to find a better route south to Diamond City. Mother-in-law used to say I was patient. Patience of a saint, she'd tell me. Well, I'm getting the lay of the land, getting to know my enemies and gearing up. Rush it and I have no chance… hang in there, Shaun. Daddy's coming.


	3. Holotape C - Bye, Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent finds more allies and returns a locket. MacCready decides he can trust his new boss a little more and suggests a plan to shake the Gunners off his back once and for all.  
> Vin and Mac reach Diamond City, an experience that leaves its mark.

[*hissss.. crackle. Vin gave his PIP-boy a thump. That did the job.]

Went across west toward the old shipping company and found a home built up under a pylon. Abernathy Farm, they call it. Nice folks. Turned out the silver locket I picked up at the old satellite station used to belong to their daughter. She's gone, now, raiders killed her. Only just an adult.…MacCready made a comment that surprised me, something about hoping he'd never know what it was like to lose a child. Hadn't expected that level of empathy from the young merc, to be honest.

Anyway, the Abernathys were real happy to have that back and I traded a little elbow grease picking melons for a few more caps than Lucy Abernathy should probably have agreed to but we need as many as we can get. Connie had a few bits for trade, too.

I decided to go poke around Wicked Shipping, see if there was anything left to salvage. There was but we had to put down a few ferals to get at it. MacCready surprised me by asking if I could help him deal with those two Gunner bullies from Goodneighbor. I told him that money doesn't fix things with goons like that. We're gonna have to run an extermination operation. Not before we're better equipped and I've had a chance to do a bit of reconnaisance first, though.

With nearly full packs we set out to Diamond City, after a rest at the Red Rocket. 

We cleared Concord as we went through it and found ourselves at the old drive-in. Mac made a joke about wondering if we'd be thrown off the lot without a ticket. I was surprised he even knew that kind of thing happened! Maybe he read that issue of The Inspector where the vampire gang stalked girls at The Passion Pit movie theatre. The only things patrolling this lot and trying to bite were molerats.

Dropped into an old plumbing shop and an electrical hardware store. Aside from a few raiders, the journey to the fabled Diamond City was better than my first attempt… until we got almost to the gate. Supermutants. We couldn't save the two guards fighting them off but we did finish the green uglies off. Damn I need better gear.

I could hardly believe my eyes. Fenway Park. I was looking forward to bringing Shaun to see his first baseball game here. Guess baseball has been cancelled. A city has grown up on the pitch like a rusty bunch of scrap metal and chipped plyboard weeds. 

The reporter who was at the gate when we arrived wants to interview me. I'm not feeling particularly sociable but I guess it might help my search. Not like I can get a picture printed on a milk carton these days.

We sold our excess junk to the Mr. Handy in the market, the only place open at that early hour. MacCready recommended the noodles so we sat eating a very early breakfast. Mac ate two bowlfuls, no idea where he put it in that skinny frame of his. I'm shocked that MacCready paid over eighty caps for his two bowls unless that robot gave him a serious discount. 

I just sat and read one of the tattoo mags I picked up and it gave me an idea. I sometimes called Nora my 'legal eagle'. The screaming eagle design on the cover of the magazine spoke to that and to what I'm feeling right now. Whoever you are that stole our baby boy, you'll see raw justice come screaming at _you_ when I find you, you bastard.

It was the grodiest tattoo parlor I've ever been in and that's sayin' something. Still, the guy copied the design perfectly and even used a stimpak to speed up the healing after. Mac the merc didn't say anything but his raised eyebrows and tiny nod let me know he was a bit impressed, at least.

So there was supposed to be a Detective here I could talk to, according to the pompous ass of a mayor. I found the office alright, only - irony of ironies - Nick Valentine has gone missing.

**Under my Hat**

Some days I miss farming at the homestead. Not that I'm what the boss called 'green-fingered', sounds too much like Supermutant talk to me but I can usually persuade things to grow. You just gotta be patient, is all. Well the Abernathy farm is a pretty nice set-up. It stung when the guy said they'd lost their daughter. I almost mentioned Duncan but managed to hold back. Nobody gets to know about my son and I'm not about to show my weakness, especially not in front of the one guy I've met who might actually get me into Med-Tek. First things first. If he can help me take down my old bosses, I'll know I can trust him to watch my back against a horde of ferals. Duncan might just have a chance.

We moseyed into Starlight Drive-In. It reminded me of that issue of The Inspector I left with Dunc. After we'd dealt with the molerat infestation, we checked out the rooms under the huge screen. I went round the other side so he hadn't noticed me come back around. I probably shouldn't have listened in but I heard Vincent play a holotape. His wife… his baby. He's mentioned that their baby has been snatched but he hasn't said anything about his wife. Did she run off with it? I don't think so, judging by his face when the holo clicked off. Bet she's gone… well. Looks like we have a few things in common, then. 

I have to say, I love his new tattoo. I would have maybe cautioned him against that creep Crocker but he was in and outta the door before I could move after all those noodles. Also, might have put those caps toward a better scope for his rifle but he's the boss.


	4. Holotape D - Flame In My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much to do, so little gear to do it with. Vincent and MacCready take a nearly disastrous trip to the Mass Pike Interchange.
> 
> They go from the frying pan into the literal fire at Saugus Ironworks and Vincent half-heartedly makes a life-changing decision.

_Under my Hat_

'Recon mission' my ass. I gotta say, the Bossman sure talks like a Gunner sometimes. If I hadn't heard his conversation with that old yellowcoat ghoul Felix at the Rexford, I might have thought the Gunners had grown a brain and sent a fake client to trap me. No. The truth is more horrible than that. He was caught by bastards more ruthless even than them: Vault-Tec. The boss is already pale even under the weathering and muck but I could almost count his freckles when he recognised the old ghoul. 

So between the old salesman and that holotape,  
I've got a picture of the Bossman that doesn't quite add up. They were all frozen, like, before the Great War. So where"s the wife? Was the baby taken before or after they turned into Cryopops? Much as I try and keep things professional and impersonal, if I get a clue that a job might go south, I end it. I have standards, y'know?

Anyway, the 'recon' almost messed up the whole plan. I thought we weren't shooting but we took out three ground guards. Then Captain Cram in his tinsuit went up the elevator. I saw red light and pieces of T-forty five fly off. An **assaultron**. They've got an assaultron! That's new. Not a 'sassy, will kill you with her prices, transister' like KL-E0 but a real deathray diva. No way are we geared up sufficiently. I'm sure there's a better sniping position than riding up the big yellow elevator to hell-o-red-deathville. Preferably in daylight, behind cover, not practically in the dark.

Back in Sanctuary though, Boss made a good call. Somehow, not long defrosted, he's managed to get promoted to General of the Minutemen. I thought it was sensible to accept the offer and get some allies - I bet the pay is good - but it's almost laughable. I know how few Minutemen were left after…. after Quincy. I should. I was there.

**Holo D**

I guess I should be putting dates on these tapes but I can't bring myself to look. Makes my head spin. So, as things stand with me and my new recruit… I mean, hired gun... If I stop paying him, I'll lose him and I'm not willing to do that. The guy is the best shot I've ever known. Not a great attitude but _I'm_ one to talk. I don't feel like being who I was. I don't feel complete anymore like I did just, what, a couple of weeks ago? A fortnite and two centuries, more like.

Gear. I'm trying to remember how to tool a better receiver for my rifle but it just won't come to me. I used to be so good at this stuff. Armor I know less about making but I'm sure I'll pick it up. Leather is my best bet at the moment, a good all-rounder. What I wouldn't give for a decent set of combat armor, though. MacCready doesn't seem to use any, unless he's got a layer hidden under what's left of that scrappy duster he wears. Man's like a cat, good at climbing up to high places, seems to have nine lives, too.

[*click* *clack*]

So we did recon to Mass Pike Interchange. I've managed to get the T-45 in working order though it doesn't hold a candle to the T-60 I used…. We, well, I, startled a ground troop so we had to take three of 'em out. Damn armor's too noisy. I took the service elevator up to be confronted immediately with a fucking assaultron. I jumped. Sheared two limb-plates and we had to retreat. Give 'em the impression they won that round. The robot'd measure that encounter as a high probability kill and won't pursue. I was lucky no humans saw it though otherwise I'd have lost the advantage. MacCready seems to be giving me the silent treatment, now.

[*static*]

We're back in Sanctuary. Garvey is desperate, he asked me again to join the Minutemen as their General.  
I accepted but only half-heartedly. I mean, it isn't like being a real militia commander. Not when I'm actually only in charge of Garvey and a few farmers. I don't mind helping out if it helps me get to Shaun. It doesn't define me, though. MacCready pointed out that it'll be good to have allies at our backs, at least. 

Farmers. With pipe pistols. If I took this position seriously I'd be outfitting them with better gear and training them for four hours a day. I'm not a Staff Sergeant anymore though, remember? I'm a … I'm just whoever or whatever I need to be to _find my son_.

[*click,click,click*]

Went back to Diamond City, scavved along the way. Did the interview with Piper, don't know if it will help at all. Went into the Dugout Inn, had a drink, rented another disgusting room. Only slightly better than the Rexford. The barkeep knew MacCready and asked about someone called Lucy. Mac said she didn't make it. Half of me wants to know more but this is just a professional arrangement we've got going. He made it clear he's not looking for a friend. Fine. Neither am I. Allies, sure. Friends just complicate things on the battlefield.

This ghoul called Edward Deegan gave us a job. More caps equals more gear so I accepted and we went to Cabot House to get the details. Creepy guy. Definitely owns a tinfoil hat. Place looks untouched. The job is up north, past where Garvey marked the farm that needs help. Looks like a plan of action to me.

Headed out northeast, we stopped over at Bunker Hill. A small community has sprung up around the old monument. Did some trading, rented the worse room yet. I let MacCready, who seems to know every barman in the Commonwealth so far, have the second watch just so I could see if he got up scratching from that grimy mattress before I tried to sleep on it.  
I also needed to be exhausted before I could pass out. Pretty sure I woke up yelling but nobody commented.

One thing I hadn't mentioned: the synth problem. A guy in Goodneighbor got shot down and I could see a white plastic thing sticking out the back of his shattered skull. Another guy was shot down in Diamond City for pulling a gun on his brother 'cause he _thought_ he was one of these synths. Then the…I guess hotel clerk at Bunker Hill was arguing that synths are people too and this Railroad keeps being mentioned. The only ones fighting the Institute. Then I keep thinking about that military sounding distress signal. If there *is* any army left at all, it is my duty to report in.

I just want Shaun back in my arms.

[*whirr, click*]

Finch Farm. Mr. Finch wanted us to get a knife _from_ a literal firefight. Well, an heirloom sword. His son had joined the raiders and the man had disowned him. I could never do that to my son. We faced the fire at Saugus Ironworks, convinced Jake Finch to not be an idiot and Mrs. Finch gave them both a damn good talking to when we returned. I caught Mac's smug grin. He liked that.

We're back at Sanctuary again to report the success to Garvey. Something Mamma Murphy said, after I gave her the Jet I found, made me decide that we're ready to go search for the missing detective. The Cabot job can wait. We have enough gear now after that last job and I remembered how to to improve my rifle. I'd prefer to make it a point fifty cal but there's none of that ammo to be had. Maybe I'll help MacCready after we find this Detective. I owe him that much. Then just maybe when this is all over, we can talk about being… friends.


	5. Holotape E: Detected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vin records his thoughts onto holotape. MacCready still keeps his mostly under his hat. The blue doors lead both men to places that trigger their fears but someone awaits a knight -or two - in shining armour.

We arrived at Park Street Station, following Ellie's directions. I had a nagging feeling that I needed to buy a ticket as I stepped through the door, remembered I was two centuries too late for any train and saw the escalators sloping down. Some guy who sounded like he smoked way too much was complaining that the boss should have shot Valentine, not locked him up, so I knew we were in the right place.

More triggermen. Keep this up and I'm gonna need a genuine Silver Shroud outfit…

_A subway station. Why'd it have to be a blasted subway station? I grit my teeth, feel the warm solidity of the duct-taped-together stock of my rifle next to my chest and will my hands not to shake.  
As I hear raspy voices confirm that the Detective is somewhere below us, it dawns on me that **this** is what I was hired for. Come on Robert, you fucking mungo. Get a grip. Focus on the job, one target at a time. Ghouls… but not ferals, at least. Triggermen. Those, I can deal with._

Stealth ops. I was always half-decent at stealth ops. Vaughn used to joke about how I could be such a loud jock until I needed to sneak up to a girl's bedroom window without her parents noticing. Well, these crooks didn't hear or see us until too late. I'm liking the rifle improvements and I'm picking up tips from watching MacCready work. Damn but he's good.

We picked our way methodically through the subway station to what turned out to be another vault. Damn myoclonus threatened to come back in my right side but I breathed through it, just like after Anchorage. Vault 114. Makes me wonder where 112 and 113 are at… but maybe I really don't wanna know. It was way different inside than the freezer cabinet we'd been condemned to inhabit.…

[*hisssss*]

…those poor people. This fancy burrow was a whole different experiment that never got started. The construction vehicles were still there.

_They must have building right up to the last second, turning the subway into a frickin' vault. I hate vaults, never met a good one. There's always somethin' off about them… anyway, we picked our way pretty cleanly through the maze, with the Boss leading the way. His aim has improved and the work he did on his rifle has made a big difference, so much so he was scoring most of the kills. I joked "Chalk up another kill for me" but sarcastic like, after he got another one hit killshot; I don't think he heard me. Or he was just ignoring me. I haven't quite worked Mister Living History out, yet._

We found a guy named Dino taunting the Detective. He went down fast. I overrode the system with his key and I was not prepared for what I saw.

Detective Nick Valentine is like no man I ever met… or anyone ever met for that matter. We skipped the smalltalk until we'd got past a bunch more goons and 'Skinny' Malone himself. The bitch with a baseball bat got out. I hope we don't run into her again. The mobsters all went down though. 

_The gumshoe's a frickin' robot! He's literally falling apart to boot. Not sure how much help this clockwork dick is gonna be but he leads us out._

_Why does the Bossman have to stop at every single toolbox, pick nearly all the locks he can find and then fill my pack with worthless guns… as we go along still fighting, nonetheless! I mean, the SMGs we can get a tidy bunch o' caps for but empty plastic bottles? Tin cans? Beer bottles that may or may not have been used as emergency piss recepticles? He doesn't listen when I tell him to leave it. What does he think we are, pack brahmin?_

_So we're through the last door. Boss then goes and taunts the baseball bat bitch and just when I think he's cleverly lit the self-destruct, pitching her against Malone, he goes and says something that means she gets to leave and this Skinny fella thinks he's got off scott free. Thankfully, the Boss changed the mobster's mind with a three-oh-eight and we finished what we started. I sure hope that batty woman doesn't come back to bite us on the ass, though._

Outside, we all headed back to his office at Diamond City. I laid it all out, he put it all together.

_I had no idea what Vincent had been through. I mean, I thought I had a clue but he let all his defences down in that office and dammit, I nearly started cryin'. So. We're a couple of dads just tryin' to rescue our sons. When we've dealt with our Gunner problem, I might just let him know he's not alone in this. Not yet, though. Not until I'm sure his path doesn't stray too far from mine. I wonder if he's figured me out yet? I try so hard not to leave any traces._

We have a lead. More. I have a name.

_Now that, I can work with._

**Kellogg.**


	6. Holotape F: Following Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Vin decides to check out the distress signal he heard back when he cleared Corvega, a new path opens up before him...but it is not one he thinks his mercenary would be too happy with.
> 
> Keys are obtained, promises kept and friendship blooms.

[*click, sigh*]  
Valentine showed me where Kellogg's house was, up behind security in Diamond City. It was locked tight, no way either he nor I could pick that. Since it was late at night and I couldn't try to charm the key from the Mayor's secretary, nor had enough caps to make a decent bribe, I told Valentine to see if he could dig up anything else whilst I took a couple days to deal with some things and get better equipped. Of course the detective argued that the trail would go cold but it has already been weeks since the bastard was there with that kid. I'd rather be better prepared for what we might find and if that distress beacon _is_ whatever is left of the military, then I need to know. I could get backup, resupplies, get a handle on the wider situation. If it isn't, I might still get something out of it. As much as I appreciate having a second gun at my side, I doubt the U.S. military would appreciate a mercenary turning up. I'm sending MacCready to wait at Red Rocket.

_Guess the Boss has his limits when it comes to picking locks. First he tells the Private Eye to keep digging and now he tells me to go up to the old gas station, solo? I don't know what he plans to do unless maybe hire a locksmith? A nervous, shady locksmith? Yeah, well, I'll wait because I'm being paid to. He's split the loot fairly so far and tells me I get half of what he finds while he's off gallavanting but I don't have to like it. I'm supposed to help keep him alive._

I arrived at what used to be Cambridge Police Station to find waves of ferals attacking. A soldier in power armour and two in a uniform I didn't recognise were holding position. When the last feral was down, I learned that these soldiers are part of something called the Brotherhood of Steel. The U.S. military no longer exists. This group have a noble ideal, though. They'd lost four members of their recon team. I accompanied the power armored soldier - Paladin Danse - to retrieve a part for the transmitter on the roof that will allow them to call for backup. They seem professional, disciplined and courageous. Knight Rhys is the kind of dyed-in-the-wool soldier I've met before: tough on new recruits, surly, downright unpleasant but I suspect that if I earn his respect, I'll earn his unwavering loyalty, too.

Danse and I left him to recover from his wounds and Scribe Haylen to hold the fort. Arcjet wasn't too far away. We encountered a caravan beset by raiders but were too late to rescue the caravanner. 

Inside, the robot defenses had been disabled without violence. Further in, after unlocking the lab door, I met my first Institute robotic synths. Relentless, impassive and numerous, the Paladin and I took them all down efficiently. They are nothing like Valentine though, as much as I can plainly see the physical resemblance.

_There it is. The big old Red Rocket up in the sticks. He didn't send me to somewhere with people like Abernathy or Sanctuary, thankfully. I couldn't face their questions._

_I dump my stuff under the bed I've claimed as my own, boil some water and chisel some gritty coffee out of the tin that Vince… I mean, the Boss… made me carry. He only wanted it for the aluminum anyway. I've seen him throw away two weeks' worth of useable instant coffee 'cause it wasn't 'loose and rattling' in the tin. Ha. Even when you find a sealed one, that stuff is usually rock solid. I thought it was meant to be like that._

_There's a decent patch of ground out back. I need something to do so I find a shovel in his junk pile and start digging. Who knows how long he'll be gone. I can't wait all month, y'know?_

_Pretty soon there's tatos, mutfruit, razorgrain and melons ripening. Old Edie taught me everything she knew about growing things when I showed up with a hungry toddler in my arms. She helped me carry on after…yeah. Now I need to occupy my mind and my hands while I wait for the Boss to come back. Farming again. I keep expecting to hear a little giggle from just up the hill whilst I pick out weeds…_

_He'd **better** not be long. He **promised** me we'd deal with Winlock and Barnes. _

[Date input: 11/08/2287 Rec.]

November already. I've survived just over two weeks in this nightmare.

Paladin Danse was impressed enough with my military skills that he gave me a modified laser pistol as pay and offered me a place in this 'Brotherhood of Steel'. I agreed to join but didn't mention that I'm technically the General of the Minutemen already. It just never came up. The thought of belonging to a disciplined, well equipped fighting force was a comfort because of its familiarity. Maybe the Brotherhood and the Minutemen could work together? Who knows. Anyway, back at the station, Scribe Haylen gave me an assignment: to find and retrieve a piece of tech. Hmm…Mass Pike tunnel.

I'll need my merc.

[*click*]

MacCready and I are back in Diamond City. I did **not** mention the Brotherhood, only that I have a way to get a better suit of power armor to deal with Winlock and Barnes.

I got Kellogg's house key ( _knew_ that secretary could be charmed) and she offered me a property in Diamond City. Two thousand caps, pricey but I had it and the means to get more, so I bought Homeplate. Seemed like a good excuse to be at her desk anyhow. Figured it would be good to have a base of operations in what they call the 'Great Green Jewel'. Somewhere safe to sleep and store our gear.

_He got us a job, not bad! I told him I was getting bored 'cause I wasn't about to confess that I was worried. Boss likes his new vegetable plot though. Before we set off he also fixed up my rifle and replaced the stock with an improved one. A 'marksman's stock' he said. Have to admit, it fits up against my shoulder like it grew there. This man can make anything! Me, I've never been a 'hammer and nails' kinda guy._

_We stopped by Diamond City and he showed me that he'd bought a place there. We had a few hours before sleeping so I helped him break down some of the old junk, found a couple stimpaks and some ammo, too. I daren't ask him how much he paid for the pad but I'm gonna sleep soundly tonight.  
* * *  
Fff…freakin' ferals in a tunnel _again!_ Is this some kind of cruel joke or am I supposed to be facing my fears or some crap like that?_

_We take 'em out, tag team style until I see a dim, greenish, wavering light. Too late, the glowing feral jabs his steel-hard nails into my thigh and tries to break my leg. It pierces me and dislocates my knee… I'm on the ground. Boss has distracted it, chasing it into a corner whilst I grit my teeth and use my new rifle butt to knock my kneecap back in line. Think I'm gonna puke, everything's spinning but suddenly there's a sharp pain in my thigh, a warm hand on my shoulder and Vin is there, steadying me. I'm up and alert again in no time._

_He grabs the slab of circuitry out of a green trunk, hands me some ammo he found, some junk to carry and we go out the other end of the tunnel through a few raiders. We head to the Cambridge area. It's an old police station, according to the sign which means nothing to me, unlike the other signs I can see._

_Brotherhood._

_Crap. Last thing we needed was those BoSsy boots stomping around the Commonwealth. I follow my Boss in. Crap. There's so many desks to search. Still, it keeps me busy whilst he talks to the man in a can. They don't bother me, I don't bother them. Just the way I like it._

[Hiss..click]

Paladin Danse awarded me the Initiate rank. Don't think MacCready heard that, he was rummaging away in a back room. So, I'm in. Only trouble is, he explained that power armor is only available to soldiers at the rank of Knight and above, besides, none is available anyway until reinforcements arrive.

At least I got some caps 'n' scraps. I think it's time to honor the promise I made to Mac.

_We're here. Mass Pike Interchange. I wasn't sure that he'd actually go through with this after the disastrous recon we did. We creep up to an unguarded elevator. No clanky old power armor to give our position away this time._

_Vin takes out the turret. I catch a guard off-guard. These upgraded sniper rifles are freakin' amazing! We pick our way through a few more guards then the Boss whispers "B". Two shots and Winlock has no-one to run to no more._

_We loot the bodies quickly as we press on, looking for anything to give us an advantage. The cerise cyclops hasn't shown it's unfolding face yet… I speak to soon. It emerges from an old bus, Vin lets rip, two rounds in its head. The trio of claws on each arm spin up, we dance around it, firing in turn, not letting it get focussed, knocking down its power charge with every hit. The whine grows higher as it readies to release the powerful laser but before it can, the squeal and clanking crash of broken robot assaults my ears._

_Ahead, through my scope, I see an empty suit of power armor and through a tiny gap in the blockade of wooden shacks and metal beams, I see my target._

_*Blam* That's for what your **bitches** did to me.  
*Blam* and that's for Quincy you **bastards!**_

[*click*]  
We're even, he said. After those two thugs went down, he returned the caps I gave him in Goodneighbor and said he'd stick with me anyway. No real mercenary does that. 

I said, in that case, stop calling me 'Boss'. It's Vin, friend.  
[*clunk*] 


	7. Holotape G - On The Nose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent Hudson and RJ MacCready are on the trail of Shaun's kidnapper. They need a good detective...

[*clunk - hisss- tap-tap - click]

We're headed back to Diamond City. Dogmeat tagged along; I think he was missing me, the soft pooch. I might see if Arturo has any armor I could modify for him, add panniers maybe. MacCready cooked. Reminder to self: unless he offers to make his half-decent 'road stew', take charge of the meals.

[*click*]

We met Nick at Kellogg's apartment. The key worked fine, there were no traps and at first glance, no obvious clues. However, I spotted the wire and found the hidden button. The crafty bastard had made a fake wall. In the small room, there were plenty of supplies, ammo and some San Francisco Sunlights. Now, I'm a cigar man myself but I prefer a regular Boston Blueband.  
We didn't find anything solid to give us a lead. I was puzzled by the mechanic's diagnostic cart and used oilcan in the corner. It's not like you could fit a Corvega in there…

Anyway, the Sunlights reeked and the memory of my old dog sneezing at my cigar smoke popped into my head. I wondered if Dogmeat could follow the scent; Valentine thought it was a good idea, so I whistled and the good boy appeared.

_I don't quite believe what I hear. The clockwork dick offers to help track down this Kellogg scumbag and the Boss says he already has company. Mine, me! He chooses me over the actual detective. I'm trying hard to suppress the smug grin._

[click]

It made sense to take MacCready and leave Valentine safely in Diamond City. His secretary will be relieved, judging by the state I found her in when we met. Besides, I feel like I sent the merc away one too many times recently and I've just accepted his offer of sticking with me, for a fifty/fifty cut of course, after wiping out those Gunners. Turns out, he really is a decent guy. A real mercenary would never give back his hiring fee.

[*clunk*]

_We head out of Diamond City, me following the Boss and the Boss following our canine tracker. Have to hand it to the clever pooch, he led us straight to a seat with a lakeside view. Well, more of a pond, really. He found another cigar. Who would leave a perfectly decent smoke laying around, though? Not that I've tried cigars. Me, I'll stick to the ol' G.T.'s._

_Molerats. No problem. The mutt's vicious when he needs to be. Good to know he can take care of himself. The Yao Guai down the road gets a bit close. Think it got drool on my hat. Suddenly I hear the Boss's rifle and the nightmare bear falls, a deadweight._

_Bloody rags and another cigar, feral ghouls and an assaultron who's been torn apart. It had been hunting Kellogg but what I want to know is, who sent it? My bet's on the Gunners. We all know how much they hate other mercs operating in 'their' territory._

_The trail leads us to what the Bo... I mean, Vin.. calls 'the old army base. We pop a few turrets and he tells the dog to stay and guard our junk packs._

_We circle the place, looking for a way in. I suggest going up now the turrets have been dealt with. There's a metal door, locked from the inside. I'm sure we didn't check the whole roof but the Boss is already heading down, so I follow._

_The basement car park yields an entrance. Vin sets off the security bot as a decoy, nice move! I see white laser fire. Isn't it usually red? Some creepy android voices do a bad job of persuading us to give up._

_Synth waves!! Tons of 'em! We're a tight team though and our upgraded rifles are up to the job. Vin uses a red-beamed incendiary laser pistol too. Where the heck did he get that?_

_We fight our way down and a speaker crackles to life. Greeeat. Now he's taunting Vin. "Frozen peas and apple cobbler?" My stomach rumbles mutinously._

_Vin's pretty good at picking locks. He finds a Fat Man. Uh… I hope he isn't planning to use that thing indoors…_

_The bastard we're hunting down keeps on taunting Vin the further we get until finally we are at the last locked door. The Boss presses a Rad-X into my hand. Oh crap._

[*crackle*]

It's done. Kellogg is dead. He had all these… bits of technology in him. I've salvaged what I could to take to Valentine.

The Institute has Shaun. Kellogg said that he's a bit older than I remember…so when they refroze me I must have woken up years, not minutes later. The kid that Valentine mentioned was with that son-of-a-bitch in Diamond City could well have been my son. 

So…all we have to do is find out where the bogeyman lives. At least I'm not the only one who really wants to know how to get into the Institute. Don't worry, buddy, I'm comin'.

[*click*]

_Think I'm gonna be dreaming about **that** for a while. Not one but two freaking mini-nukes whistling just over my shoulder in an **enclosed space**. I mean shi…sugar! The noise! My ears are still ringin' and my skin is still tingling even though I took the Rad-X! If my hair falls out, he's payin' the bill._

_So. Good news and bad news. Vin's son is safe at The Institute...except that the only guy we know who knew where this Institute is and how to get in is now one radioactive pile of mush._

_I don't know if I should tell Vin about Duncan just yet. How the heck would I do that anyway? 'Hey Vin, y'know we've got a lot in common, you and I. My son needs saving too, mystery illness, could be dying, no pressure._

_Frag it._

[*click*]

MacCready's comment when we emerged to see the airship glide overhead, their loudspeakers blaring, was a rather irate "What are *they* doing here?" but moments later he said something like, "Did you see the size of that airship? Way to make an entrance!" He's suspicious but also impressed. Maybe he has history with the Brotherhood? I don't know and I don't feel that I know him well enough to ask. We're a good team and I'd rather not risk upsetting him. Truth is, I need him.

I decided not to tell Mac that I've officially enrolled. The mission that the Paladin gave me is an old trail. I can take my time without raising suspicion. Heh. I've certainly given myself plenty to do whilst I look for the infamous Institute. Ow, shit. Stim cramp. That was one helluva fight.

[*door opens*]

Hey Mac….uh…Cready? Sorry.

{Heh. Just Mac's fine, Vin. You've earned that much. I got us noodles!}

Thanks, pal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that italic paragraphs would be a good shorthand way of letting the reader know that they are privy to MacCready's thoughts. Let me know if this works for you!
> 
> Please leave comments on any fic you read. Us writers live on feedback ;)


	8. Holotape H - Family Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cabot job turns out to be much more involved that tracking down missing property.
> 
> Mac finally trusts Vincent enough to open up. Shaun isn't the only kid in need of saving.

_Vin still hasn't heard from Nick that this Doc Amari is ready to see him yet. I can tell he hates waiting by the fact that the man just doesn't stop. Now me, I'm a patient guy - to a point; I can sit for hours if I have a beer or a comic or both but Vin? No. He has to pick up junk and scrap it or make notes on his PIP-boy. Honestly, I think lugging around one of those clunky things on my wrist would really tee me off after a while._

_Luckily, we have a job waiting for us at Cabot House. Actually there's probably a long list of fixer-upper real estate from Vin's second-in -command, too, just waiting to be cleared and claimed. Funny. I keep forgetting he's General of the Minutemen. I thought a General would constantly be huddled around maps with his officers (well that bit is kinda true) or leading a charge in battle. Guess there really aren't enough militia to even fill the seats at the Third Rail yet. Talk about a work in progress._

_So this Cabot place freaks me out. It's just so…clean! Somebody made a deal with the devil. Not that I believe all that good and evil crap. The world ain't a comic book, y'know. Sure there's plenty o' bad out there but it's all shades of gray. With quite a bit of red. Sometimes a dash of tall, ginger and handsome in blue and gold. What?! I admire the guy, alright? I noticed him slip a bottle of Cabot's (probably really ancient) wine into his pack. I'mmmm….gonna refrain from lifting anything in here, though. Could be **cursed!**_

[*click*]  
Wow, so…welcome to the House that Time Forgot. The Cabots have been extending their lives artificially for centuries. They're twice as old as I am, if you can believe that. I know it sounds like something out of Astoundingly Awesome Tales and if they were still in print, I'd sell 'em the story. 

We found Emogene and dealt with the conman cult she'd fallen in with. Seems like four centuries of living can get boring for an overprivileged immortal. Well, their natural clocks are tickin' again now that Lorenzo has been dealt with. No more artifact-flavored blood extract for them. I found and confiscated several more vials from the lab, too.

That stuff he was making out of his deranged father's blood was a threat. It turned regular raiders into…well, Berserkers, so I've confiscated all I could find. I didn't give him the original sample we were sent to track down either, call it a gut feeling that turned out to be bang on.

When it came to putting Lorenzo down, I was…concerned. If something had gone wrong and the fail safes had failed and he got loose, I wasn't risking Mac, so I sent him hom..mmm…back to Sanctuary, I mean. He didn't look too impressed.

[…]

_We're in the Third Rail after having reported back to Count Creepy and discovered his sister Emogene is missing. Still no word from the Detective, so Vin accepts the job of tracking her down. More caps for us. I could get used to this._

_So I'm just sitting here with the last of my beer whilst Vin plays detective. Actually, he's pretty good at it. He could partner up with Valentine but that thought makes me feel jealous, annoyingly. I think I'm really starting to **like** this guy. So much so that when he comes back bearing drinks and a big grin under that amazing mustache, I blurt it all out, my life in a nutshell. I don't mention Duncan…or Lucy. Pretty much give him my lifestory though. Vin's been honest with me and I feel I owe him as much. _

_I'm sure he just said "Sounds like the road can be a lonely place, until you meet someone to share it with." His green-eyed gaze is pretty intense. There's a kind of smile in those eyes that I haven't seen since… oh man, he's **flirting** with me! I'm flustered because I never thought he…I mean, he's real handsome but he's the Bossman. I tried not to get attached. I really did but, oh fuck it. I mean, him. No! I mean…I just said I'd never thought of it that way. I do feel comfortable around him, though. _

_Is it the whiskey making those tingles?  
* * *  
We find the old lady. I'd better not have any of what she took or I'd be marching back to Little Lamplight for my second term in office! Seriously, age-reversal serum? I noticed that Vin didn't hand over the one he found. I sure hope he doesn't intend to use it.  
* * *  
We've just cleared the old Asylum. Those Raiders were on Super Psycho, man. We used way too many bullets. I hope the junk Vin scooped up is worth something so we can restock._

_Vin convinces Jack Cabot that his demented dad is way too freakily dangerous. I'm all ready to watch his back and suddenly he orders me out! Not just outta the room, no. I have to go aaaall the way up to Sanctuary, alone! And this after we **just** had that talk about how good it was to find someone to travel with. Maybe I misread him the other night. Maybe he wasn't flirting with me after all. Fine. I'll go back to Sanctuary but I'll take my own sweet time about it. _

^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
[*click*]  
Back at Sanctuary. Still no word from Valentine about Amari, yet. I guess the Doc isn't in. I hope they show up soon, I've got no other leads to find Shaun, unless…I've heard rumors about the Railroad being the only ones to stand up to the Institute. That settles it. When Mac turns up - where has that guy got to? - when he turns up we're going to Boston Common to follow The Freedom Trail. I vaguely remember it from a school trip but not too well. Where the heck is that snarky sniper, anyhow? Oh. Here he comes. Yeah, no _rush_ , MacCready.

[*click*]

_A settler came up to Vin - or should that be General…um, I should probably ask him what his last name is. I mean, Vin could be short for his first or his last name. Could be Vincenzo or Vinci or Vineyard… could just be Vincent I guess. Anyway, this guy approached The General with word of another possible site. He acknowledged the man but told me it had to wait._

_Vin has decided to 'Follow the Freedom Trail' as the Railroad is the only other link to the Institute he could think of. We get to Boston Common. There's warning signs all round but Vin ignores them. He's headed to the old Protectron pod, right out in the open. Before I can tell him that that's the worst place to be standing right now, the ground shakes and I feel the Behemoth's roar rattle my chest. Vin ducks behind a bus shelter, slinging buckshot at the beast's backside whilst it runs straight for me!_

_I catch a spike from its club across my leg and get a round in its neck. I've heard of this big mean green crushing machine. He's The Swan and we've just trespassed on his pond._

_He turns as Vin fires a barrage of shotgun shells and the overgrown mutie roars his swansong. I'm on the ground again but before I can call his name, my knight in a blue one piece is here jabbing me with a stimpak._

_We follow the red line, find the plates in the ground with numbers and letters that spell out - surprise, surprise - RAILROAD. Of course we have to plough our way through ferals and supermutants then, oh great, more ferals in the spooky old church._

_Vin cracks the seal. I feel like we're in an Unstoppables issue, following clues and solving puzzles. I'm having too much fun!_

_The reception party is less than friendly but I swear I've seen the guy in the shades somewhere before. Turns out he's been spying on Vin. They ask him a bunch of questions and in true Vin style, he's brutally honest in his answers, after a little sarcasm. Truth be told he should leave the sarcasm to me, his comes out kinda corny an' bitter. I'm not sure I would have come straight out about my son like he just did but I get it. He's desperate. I know **exactly** how that feels._

[*whrrr..click*]  
The Railroad. We found them. The leader grilled me and asked me if I was prepared to die for a synth. No context, just a yes or no. I said it depended on the situation but she wouldn't have it, so I said no. I mean, I almost said yes because I've pledged my life to my country before but this…well this is different. I'd protect Valentine in a heartbeat. All that metal and plastic skin can't hide the human soul I clearly see in those amber headlamps of his and hear in the way he talks. Any one of the seemingly flesh and blood humans could just be parading around in a really good costume, carrying ill intentions. It's all unnervingly familiar like in that old propaganda film. "Is Mr.Smith a communist because of those secret meetings? No. He's just going to Chems Anonymous, Natick! It was Mrs. Abraham, champion apple pie baker and spy for the reds. Stay watchful!" 

Yeah. Except now the paranoia is about synths. Some of them don't know that they are. Some escape the Institute as if they were slaves there.

Fear. Fear never changes.

The bald cat in shades vouched for me even when the leader told him to show me the door. Why he should care, I haven't figured out. Just how much does Deacon know? So he offered me a way in as a 'Tourist'. Huh, the Minutemen give me the top position, Brotherhood start me firmly on the bottom rung and the Railroad make me a middle man. I'd laugh if it wasn't all so crazy. First job, then is to meet Deacon by the Lexington overpass. We'll stop by Starlight and secure our extra gear first. I just hope this is worth it.

_Hearing Vin mention his son and being uncompromisingly honest about things with Desdemona made me realise. It's high time I was honest with him, too. As much as I want to help him find his Shaun, and I will - I owe him - my little Duncan is weak and in pain. Getting weaker by the day, last I heard from Newton and Mindy. I miss him so much. Can't think about it too much, usually or I risk showing my weak spot._

_With Vin, though, it's different. I let everything out. About Duncan's disease, the useless doctors, about Lucy being long gone, about Sinclair's friend and our failed attempt to get the cure._

_It takes a moment to process what Vin just said in response. We're going to Med-Tek. **Right now.** He says that he knows his son is being kept alive and safe at the Institute, so what difference will a day make? Besides, we're still waiting on Amari. _

_Well, here we go then. Lucy. Every single feral I take down is for you, buttercup. I'm going to save our son._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find screenshots that illustrate this chapter here: https://theartofblossoming.tumblr.com/post/628155759470034944/vincent-undefined


	9. Holotape I - We Are In

[*click*]  
Med-Tek was full of ferals. Feral ghouls. I wonder how many people I used to know or went to college with have ended up as these monstrosities? They don't seem to feel pain; or maybe that's all they feel now, looking at them. How the hell can they move so fast? Mac taught me to aim for the legs. He's teaching me more than he realises about surviving in the wreckage of the world. A world that seems intent on trying to harm us, even our children.

We quick marched back to Goodneighbor to get the cure to Daisy who promised to get it on the first caravan available. I assumed that MacCready would be going with it, back to little Duncan but he told me that he still needed to repay me. I tried to release him from that promise but he refused.

[…]

_I couldn't abandon Vin, not until we've either reunited him with his son or… no. We'll find Shaun, together. I swear._

_Over beers, he tells me his full name. Vincent Nathaniel Hudson. I like it, a good, strong name to go with a good, strong guy. My friend. My best friend. I've never had a best friend before, people around me tend not to stay alive very long. I look for signs of more than friendship but he never quite crosses that line again. Maybe I was imagining things. Just…well, with things finally going my way I've begun to get my hopes up. I don't want to say outright that I'm just as attracted to guys as I am to girls. If he **isn't** then it might ruin what we've got. _

_So, I tell him my name. My full name...and that I hate being called Robert. I don't tell him why: that some guys called me Robber for about a year. I **hate** getting caught stealing stuff. As for Joseph... well. Lucy - Lucia - used to call me Bobby Jo-jo. I have to surreptitiously wipe a tear away. _

_Two widower dads walk into a bar… no, it's really no joke. Dang it. Maybe our similarities are the only reason I want to be held by those big, muscular arms and run my fingers through his floppy auburn hair._

_Better not have any more booze tonight, whilst I still have some self-control._

[*click*]  
We met Deacon at the collapsed skyway near Lexington. He didn't ask why we'd been so long, we didn't offer explanation. Heck, he didn't even talk to Mac, though I know he was staring at him through those shades of his.

We followed the intel which led to an old Slocum's Joe, just a front for a military intelligence base. I echoed Mac's disgust that they hadn't been able to stop the ruination of the world. I don't know what is worse: knowing what the world was like before the nukes or growing up after them…

[*click*]

_Institute toasters are everywhere. We step over so many broken turrets and stiff railroad planks. It's late. We've cleared a tunnel, it's gone real quiet, I have a nice rocky ceiling above my head and there's three of us to sleep in shifts, so I suggest bunkering down here for the night. The egghead just tilts his dome to one side and cocks a single eyebrow above those stupid shades. Who the heck wears sunglasses underground, anyway? Yeah, yeah, message received. Vin just tells me to press on. Fine, I nod silently, but there'd better be an actual bed to sleep on when we're done here._

[*click*]

Prototype retrieved, along with a sweet little pistol. May come in handy. We headed back to H.Q. and Desdemona was impressed enough by my actions to let me in. I get the distinct impression that getting any strategic intel out of this bunch is going to be like getting blood out of a stone but I'll play their game for a while and see if they have a way to find the Institute.

One thing troubles me slightly. Though they throw icy stares his way, nobody says a word to MacCready, not even Deacon. Mac may as well be invisible… 

Desdemona asks me to pick a callsign. Real secret agent stuff. I remember playing spies with my cousin Vaughn and choose the name I chose then: 'Bullseye'. I was a damn good shot with a pop-gun.

[…]

_Well, it's a grubby mattress on the ground but at least I have a solid ceiling above me. It'll do. They let him in to their secret club. Still didn't talk to me even though I could feel their glares. I'm nothing more than a weapon in 'Bullseye's' arsenal it seems. Fine by me… though I'd better not try coming down here alone, not that I'd ever want to._

_We're still high on adrenaline and digesting a meal A very tasty meal. He's a really good cook, I'm getting used to unburned meat and perfectly done veg. I grab an old Boston Bugle thinking to actually read it, not just wipe my ..er..rifle butt with it this time and Vin prods a finger at the Horoscope in the back. He jokes about his new codename, that he's the Bull 'cause he's a Taurus and I'm the Eye due to my excellent sharpshooting skills._

_I feel a warm glow, not just from the hot meal and the room temperature cola. He shared his codename. We officially come as a pair._

_I choke on my Nuka Cola at the image that pops into my head from **that** double-entendre. I quickly distract myself to look for my birthday and see what 'sign' I am. Think it's a load of old crock but then I read what it says under Taurus and get the shivers. Words like 'icy', 'loss', 'trial', 'success' and 'redefine' pop out. Maybe there **is** something written in the stars after all._

_I look mine up, Capricorn: 'risk', 'hit your mark', 'patience', and 'companionship' pop out. I try not to see the word 'love' in there… too late. I stop short of looking up Duncan's. Really must ask Daisy if there's a message for me, next time we are anywhere near Goodneighbor. Vin is already snoring softly, so I let his rhythm lull me to sleep._

[*clunk*]  
I'm in with the [..uh…redacted.]...as a 'Heavy'. Time to check on Nick & Amari as a signal came through on my PIP-boy. Guess bein' a robot detective has its perks.

We headed over to Goodneighbor. Mac called into Daisy's and came out looking glum. I reminded him that Mindy's caravan has probably only just got there and promised that we'd swing by in a couple of weeks or so to see if there's been any word. I heard Daisy reassuring him that Mindy had hired extra protection and even bought a new, quick young brahmin to get that cure to his son, fast.

Nick was waiting in the Memory Den. We went downstairs to meet the doc and I gave her what I'd salvaged from Kellogg's remains. I couldn't help myself but be sarcastic about it so when Nick came out with the retort, "If a smart mouth was all it took we'd have your son safe by now,"  
he made me realise that I've been sarcastic alot recently; hanging out with Mac must be bringing out my angry teenage rebel side.  
[* * *]  
I can't… can't believe how much Shaun looks like Nora. He must be about ten now. Has my hair, though. Seeing…my s..my son…through Kellogg's eyes…his memories. I can see why he turned out the way he did…and maybe why he liked me. I'm not like him, though, not a cold-hearted , mercenary bastard killer. I can't ever become that. For Shaun's sake.

[*click*]

_We go into the Memory Den. I tried one of those pods once, for all of about five minutes. I see why people can get hooked on reliving the past but in my experience, opening old wounds is just painful._

_Vin gives the doc the cooler of Kellogg bits. She takes the gnarliest looking thing out and sticks it into Valentine's head. I have to hand it to the guy, he's willing to do whatever it takes to rescue a child...but they can't access the memories. Not unless Vin goes in too. I'm not sure I'd be able to do that in his place_

_When Vin comes out, he's shaky, can't hardly stand for a moment. I'm worried about him but he tells us what he saw and that we need to find this ex-Institute egghead Virgil in the Glowing Sea. He looks at me sideways as I suck in a breath at the mention of that place but seems to regain his strength and stands taller. We have a lead, a mission. Amari explains about the dangers of the Glowing Sea._

_We need power armor suits with good rad protection, he says. Preferably the T-51 type that he used in Anchorage. When he comes out with stuff like that, that the Rememberers used to tell stories about in Little Lamplight and those Historians used to babble on about until Daisy got them kicked out of Goodneighbor, I get shocked into remembering that Vincent is pre-war…and this world must be like hell for him._

_It's decided. We do the Brotherhood job next.  
Then Kellogg's voice comes out of Valentine's voicebox._


	10. Holotape J - Bootcamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent is trying to walk three seperate paths, hoping that one will lead to Shaun. Looking back is painful, looking forward is overwhelming but Mac is by his side.

_Vin's right hand is shaking. His leg, too, I notice. We are both spooked by Kellogg's voice coming out of Valentine's mouth. I try to break the tension by saying, "That little trip down Kellogg's memory lane really worked, eh? Must have been something else." Vin just tells the detective that he'll see him 'round, mutters that he needs a whiskey and strides out of the place._

_We don't head for the Third Rail but to our usual room at the Rexford. Vin doesn't say a word until I close the door behind us. He collapses onto the old couch and just says "Get the bottle out," gesturing to my pack with a shaky hand. I've never seen him like this. He crumples into himself, breaking into barely suppressed sobs and I freeze, bottle in hand, torn between wanting to gather him into my arms and hug him hard or leave the room, as quietly as an exhalation of smoke._

_Before I realise that I'm moving, I've perched on the arm of the couch. I recognise this, the deep-purge of grief. I remind myself what he has just re-experienced and for once don't run my mouth. I just wait until the sobs break free a little to ricochet off the shoddy walls, then fade into deep sighs and finally settle into shaky breaths._

_The whiskey bottle has found its way, unopened, into my left hand whilst my right has settled on Vin's shoulder. He reaches up a large, dextrous hand, placing it on my own rather shamefully grimy one, gives it a long squeeze and lets it sit for a moment. Head still down, his green eyes finally lift to meet my gaze. "Whiskey?" he begs. I nod, he pats my hand twice and releases it._

_We hardly speak before the bottle is half empty. Then Vin admits that he saw through Kellogg's eyes and sighted down that pistol as though he had pulled the trigger. The same .44 that sat holstered at the bottom of his pack. He couldn't bear to use it nor could he bring himself to part with it, as if its story wasn't yet over._

_He spoke of seeing his son in those memories, a ten year old boy who had his wife's eyes, his own hair and also reminded him of his cousin. I let him talk until his speech slurred, let him drink until his eyelids drooped and somehow steered him to the bed. Before I crashed out on the couch, I placed a purified water next to the bed. He'd need that. Maybe I could get Daisy to whip up one of her hangover omelettes, too._

_I went to sleep with images of Duncan's smile and the pod-restored yet still faded memory of Lucy's laughter in my mind._

[*click*]  
We got an earlier start that I was expecting, thanks to Mac appearing before noon with the best anti-hangover omelette I ever tasted. He won't or more likely can't give me the recipe. I don't think he made it.

We followed the old trail and transponder signals and found some well-preserved Brotherhood bodies, past all the ferals and Supermutants. We looted what we could carry and eventually found the bunker.

I almost lost it in front of Mac again, at the door. I don't know what set it off, maybe just all the death and destruction. I downed a beer and my PIP-boy warned that I had reached addictive levels of alcohol, so I had to puff an addictol. 

Brandis is alive. The old fellah reminds me of Ike. It took some persuading but he has agreed to rejoin the Brotherhood. I'll have a word with Doctor Cade, I see some definite signs of Post-Combat Stress and what we used to call Bunker-Fever in the old Paladin. Hopefully my pre-war military experience is still of use, here.

[*hisssszzztt*]

…onboard the Prydwen. Maxson - excuse me, _Elder_ Maxson - was impressed enough by my performance to grant the rank of Knight. Since MacCready declined Initiate status, preferring to be what I think they term a "sanctioned hireling", they are practically ignoring him. I can tell it irritates the guy. He still doesn't know that I actually accepted it, thinking we are both just hired guns. I decided to send him off to check in with Preston for me whilst I tour the ship and learn exactly what I have gotten myself into. Thank goodness they haven't made me swear an oath. They're organised but not like the old military. I snuck one of the scribe's personal holotapes out of Cambridge Police Station. It is always worth listening to what the rank and file say when they think the officers aren't listening. She talked about feeling uneasy with how the Brotherhood operate but finding a place for herself despite that. Well. My own moral compass is only working in the gray right now, too These names and titles, definitions that people keep throwing my way aren't sticking permanently. The only thing I really care about is getting to my son. They're all just a means to an end. I'm done following orders blindly. What the hell good did it do anyway?

I have been given a suit of T-60. I'd only read about these, having left the service before they were introduced. A few of the standard flaws are still present but with the right materials, tools and know-how, I bet I could turn it into a real hotrod! I fixed the helmet weld issue. The sticky actuator needs more than I can give it but I bet Proctor Ingram could help out with the technical side, once I find more adhesive and a better, less gritty lubricant.

She's pretty impressive, is Ingram. I saw her spot-weld a tricky join perfectly. I wonder if she likes beer? I could use a fellow grease-monkey for a friend up here.

[*click*]

_A lone Brotherhood Knight stomps toward the Red Rocket. I see him through my scope as I lay in my little sniper's nest on the roof. He gets closer and removes the helmet with a flourish. Well, look who finally showed up._

_I leap up, grinning, wondering how he managed to get his hands on a pristine set of Brotherhood power armor. He grins back and we meet at the garage door. He manoeuvres the thing inside, climbs out and tells me not to ask._

_We left it at Red Rocket with the T45. Just need to fix the latter now to go to the Glowing Sea, like Amari said. Good. That means that Vin intends me to go with him. Alright, I'll carry whatever junk he throws at me so he can get that tin can as radproof as it'll go. I kinda like my hair as it is._

_We have other work to do, though. We put two turrets in Oberland & fixed their pump after an attack. Preston is here helping re-plant the farm. I'm on the roof, just finishing up loading the turrets with ammo when I see Garvey and Vin's conversation get..uh…animated. He must have asked Vin about taking the Castle back one too many times, judging by the headshaking and Garvey's shoulders sagging. Nothin' to do with me. I'm just following Hudson. He's the Boss._

[*click*]

I told Preston I was giving back the General position. Too much responsibility. I can't live up to that right now but I promised that I would continue to volunteer as a Minuteman when and where possible but that my path to Shaun is leading me in other directions. He said he wouldn't stop calling me General but would try to take up the slack, just until I found my son.

So we picked up the Dead Drop, met up with the Old Man and saw the 'package' to the High Rise, so to speak. Ahhh… this stuff was fun when I was a kid, speaking in code and all that but I just find it tiresome now. MacCready didn't much like helping out when no caps got handed over at the end. Still, I need to earn their trust, see if they have any clues about getting in, so we did another job up north setting up Mercer Safehouse at Zimonja.

After that, we headed to Croup Manor for the Minutemen. Cleared it of ferals but I wouldn't live there. The place is spooky! At least the settlers won't have to worry about the Assaultron and the Gutsy down the way, on the bridge as Mac and I took care of that. We got some supplies from the job but everything is taking way too long. 

Shaun. He won't even know me when I do find him. He has another father, I heard him say so in Kellogg's memories. I'd thought that when I found him, I'd be caring for an infant. Instead, I'm gonna have to challenge a man I don't even know for a boy who never really knew me. The only proof I have is Nora's holotape. I keep that close.

[*clunk*]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screenshots to accompany this chapter: 
> 
> https://theartofblossoming.tumblr.com/post/628433828000776192/chapter-10-bootcamp


	11. Holotape K - In Shining Armour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready's loyalties are pulled in several directions but he knows exactly where he wants to be.
> 
> Vincent is getting frustrated with the Railroad leading nowhere that he needs to be.

[*click*]

The risk is starting to outweigh the reward, running these underground ops. We've cleared and unlocked three separate DIA caches, set up a safehouse and seen a 'package' safely delivered. Neither D. nor C. have given me any further clues of how to actually find the Institute. I mean, these…people…must be coming from somewhere? How the heck are they gettin' out in the first place? Can't even ask any of them on account of that automatic memory overwrite thing that Valentine mentioned. I'm starting to feel used...and now there's word from Amari that she needs their help. If **I** show up…well, it could complicate matters. I'm not comfortable with all the cloak and dagger stuff. I don't see them helping any escaped humans, either. Maybe this Virgil guy is my best chance after all…in which case I need that other power armor suit for MacCready in better condition. I guess I could take someone else, though… not sure who I could trust. No, I'd rather wait and do it right. I need to report back to Danse before he thinks I've gone AWOL. Now would be a good time to give Mac a break, anyway.

[*click*]

_I smell urine soaked garbage as I step through the gate and every time it reminds me of dirty diapers. Welcome to Goodneighbor! Remember that time you suddenly found yourself a single parent on the run? Well, he's been out of diaper cloths for a while now. I hope he doesn't still wet the bed, though._

_I'm at Daisy's counter in a heartbeat, the slight breeze and scent of fried green tatos washing the stink away. She smiles and hands me one on a plate, telling Vin behind me that he'll have to share, if I let him. Of course I do but I have no appetite for the half he pushes back toward me._

_Daisy's smile wavers and she produces a folded scrap of paper. There's a short note in terrible handwriting. Must be Patchup's. It says: "Cure working but slowly. N. says don't rush back, mungo." Underneath is a stick figure drawing with a hat and a long line that could be my rifle and the words 'my Daddy' … and the heart-shaped sun we always draw together…for **her**._

_When Vin hears that the cure is working, he tries to dismiss me, insisting I go to see my son. I am very sorely tempted but it doesn't feel right, to go to my boy when Vincent still can't go to his, so I refuse. I argue that it's two weeks there and two weeks back and I promised I'd repay him. I like to keep things even. Truth is, aside from honoring my debt I also want to be worthy of my son like Vincent is worthy of Shaun._

_I make a decision, one I thought I never would make._

[*clunk*]

MacCready took me to one side at Goodneighbor. I'm glad to hear that his son is recovering but he won't go to him yet because he feels he owes me. I told him that's ridiculous, that he should be with Duncan but then he came right out with it. He knows I'm not just a hired gun for the Brotherhood, that I signed up. He reminded me that he's promised to help me get Shaun back. Whatever it takes.

[*click*]

_So I chose to enrol in the Brotherhood, too; to be a real soldier, finally. I'd guessed that Vin wasn't just being a mercenary for them, not at this level of involvement. The Brotherhood are not known for hiring mercs anyway but he wasn't to know that, being pre-war an' all. I know him well enough now to realise that the guy lived and breathed being a soldier before settling down. It's in the little things he does, like the stretches and press-ups he does as soon as he wakes up; the speed at which he can strip and clean his weapon; how he keeps his kit in order. Discipline. Things I learned from the Gunners, who they say, learned from their pre-war army forefathers._

_Those amoral scumbags can't call themselves real soldiers, though. To be honest, I'm not sure how long I'll last in the Brotherhood, either, not if I'm ever ordered to fire on an innocent. Vin certainly wouldn't do that though. I spoke to Knight Rhys, made it very clear that I'm loyal to… well, he's technically called Knight Hudson, now. I told Rhys I'd sign up if I wasn't separated from Vin. Hah, like Valentine said, "my Knight in shining armor."_

_We're a team, I said. I have a moral debt to repay him, I said. Rhys is a hardass, alright but no more intimidating than any Gunner officer ever was to me. He told me he'd have a word with the Paladin. I was informed that based on Vin's informal reports of my sniping ability that he'd allow a probationary period and that they'd honor my request, for now. Without telling him. I don't know, I guess I want to do that myself when I'm ready, if this works out._

_If I'm really honest with myself, I'm not just doing this for Duncan. I'm doing it to stay with Vin. I think I've gone and fallen for him, hard._

[*hssss*]

When Maxson granted me the rank of Knight, I spoke to Paladin Danse and insisted on keeping MacCready by my side, whenever possible. I swear I saw just the hint of a smile in his eyes when he commended my friend's sniping skill. I believe he used the word 'outstanding'.

We reported to Knight Rhys at Cambridge, who has begun to show me some grudging respect, at last. 

MacCready really hates ferals. We cleared the demented ghouls from College Square subway quickly, then found more aboveground in the surrounding buildings. We reported back, received our pay. We're to expect our next orders from the Elder, soon. In the meantime, I have two jobs for the Minutemen, clearing raiders for the Abernathys and County Crossing have a ghoul problem. Every job means more caps means better gear. Repeat Ad Victoriam. Infinitum, even. I'm so fuckin' tired.

[*clunk*]

_HUBRIS COMICS! The job for County Crossing takes us to the actual old comic store. I wonder if I'll find that one issue I'm missing? Vin finds an issue of The Unstoppables in good condition. Looks like it was just taken out of wherever it spent two hundred years. There's bodies here, scavvers. Oh crap. There's also ferals again._

_We drop several that fall through the ceiling and shamble out of doorways. Vin's picking the lock on a case and I don't see what he's doing whilst I scan the room for sleepers, until he hands me something with a big goofy grin on his face. It's only ff..freakin' Grognak's axe! Not some plastic toy, real wood and steel! It's not particularly sharp but give me half an hour with a whetstone and it will be. Right now, I bet it's still heavy enough to give a feral a final, splitting headache._

_Does this mean Vin has finally axed me out? Haha. Okay, okay, I'll keep these bad jokes to myself, for now at least. As long as he's enjoying my company and we're kicking enemy ass together, I'm happy._


	12. Holotape L - Long Road Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready is honest with himself and to am extent, with Vin. 
> 
> Paladin Danse requires Knight Hudson's presence.

_What am I doing? **Dreaming** about him, now? The guy helps me get rid of my Gunner problem, finds Duncan's cure, gives me a tour of Hubris comics and hands me a cool souvenir... that axe did take an edge surprisingly well... so now I've gotta hide the evidence of my attraction. Great. Maybe he just won't look down there. Vin's all business, anyway._

_Frag it. He's probably straight. Don't get your hopes up, R.J. Although, I wonder what it would be like to… nope. All the nope. C'mon, this is not the time to be a mushy mutfruit. We have a job to do._

[*Tsszzzt click*]

Finally had enough materials to fix up the T-45 and improve the radiation seals. It should provide Mac with a reasonable level of energy and ballistic protection now, too.

The Glowing Sea… yeah, like the seas on the moon, dry, irradiated, inhospitable. We encountered similar creatures to what you find most anywhere now: radscorpions, stingwings, deathclaws. 

Noting co-ords of a useful site [//encrypted//] with what looks to be some kind of prototype power armor, incomplete. I'll be coming back for that beauty. The underground government installation was full of Gen Twos. MacCready and I cleared it but best be cautious when returning.

We also found a bunch of nutjobs living in the crater where the nuke actually hit. They must all be so sick… call themselves The Children of Atom. Great. Doomsday cultists, like we need any more of that garbage. They pointed us toward Virgil, though so we left them in peace.

[*click*]

_Vin's fixed up the suits for our radioactive roadtrip. I've been in power armor before, don't like wearing the bucket on my head but I don't wanna go bald and blind. It takes me a moment to figure out how to climb into the thing and find the closure switch. I can steer it well enough and Vin has collected plenty of fusion cores so I don't need to worry about… what did he call it? 'Running out of gas'._

_We find a shack that is hiding another one of the government's dirty little secrets. It's full of synths but before long they're just scrap._

_Vincent's spotted something. He looks like the proverbial kid at Christmas. I peer round the corner to see an ugly beetle-like suit of power armor. Vin reads the serial number on the back: X-01. It's incomplete and I just know he'll be back at some point to lug that thing to the nearest workshop. I don't like its creepy, alien-looking face._

_We got directions from the Children of Atom. Good job they were in a grovelling mood rather than a shooting mood. Mind you, this close to the source of radiation they're either too weak to lift a gun or too busy turning themselves into ghouls._

_We find Virgil. He's… uh… not looking well. Vin's persuaded him to help, as long as we find a serum for him in return. I'm not sure you can cure what he's..um..afflicted with._

[*click*] Personal. I'm recording this because…well, I guess I need to make sure I've something to leave behind…in case…Hmm. Son, if you are listening, know that Robert Joseph MacCready is a very close and loyal friend. Hah, you know what he said to me today? He said, 'Don't know what karma I cashed in to deserve someone as good as you.' Well, the sentiment goes both ways. He's sticking with me so we can find you, even when his own son is awaiting his return because I helped him out. I hope I get to meet little Duncan one day. Heck, I hope you boys get to meet each other. Love you, Shaun. I'm comin', buddy.

[*clunk*]

_I hate flying. Bet I'm as green as my hat right now! At least it's a short hop up to the Prydwen. One last stomach-churning motion and we're there. Thankfully the grilled radstag Vin cooked earlier stayed down. That could have been embarrassing!_

_Their eyes slide right off Knight Hudson at my side after they salute, their gazes deflected by the few pieces of Brotherhood armor that he's started wearing. Now, their eyes are on me, either looking right through me in my one-sleeved duster and green hand-me-downs or giving me the third-degree. I can almost hear their disgusted thoughts: 'who the heck is this Wastelander? Why isn't Knight Hudson's sidekick in uniform already? Yada yada.'_

_Some folks assume that the green shirt and trousers I wear, I got from the Gunners. Well they'd be wrong. It's a good colour to blend in and I've had these since I turned sixteen, a parting gift from the kids I left behind. The hat, well that's another story and the duster… mmm. I won't be telling Preston Garvey who I stripped it from. Maybe, hopefully, I'll be able to tell Vin one day._

_I once heard Valentine say, 'the clothes make the man' but I'm not ready to jump into uniform, not yet. I may have signed up for Steel but I'm on probationary, too old to be a Squire but not even full Initiate yet, like they're taking me just because I'm with Vin. Enrol one, get one free. As if I'd ever do anything for free. Heck, I don't blame them for being cautious, though._

_I decide to be open with him. He's always honest with me. Guess I got too used to being cagey around mercs and clients I didn't even know. It's a habit I'm trying to break, new leaf an' all. Pretty proud of myself for cleaning up my language, though. That's something **Vincent** could improve on, heh. _

_We stroll out onto the deck. The view is amazing. I'm fine up here, the Prydwen is pretty steady, as good as an old skyscraper. Those old things always sway a bit in the wind._

_I tell him I'm serious about staying by his side. I tell him I enrolled, that they really aren't sure about me and I guess they were waiting to see if I'd tell my boss. Well, now I have. Officially reporting for duty, Knight Hudson, I say._

_He gives me a kind of sad smile, part relief and part…I don't know, resignation? He reminds me of what I've really got myself into. He used to be a Staff Sergeant, he says. The Brotherhood ranks aren't the same as the old military but he understands them well enough to make comparisons. He tells me the hoops I'd have had to go through if Initiate was the same as Private but thankfully, we're a special case. I report to Vin, he reports to Paladin Danse who gets his orders from the young Elder. He looks rough but I'm betting that Maxson is closer to my age. I can hear his youth when he speaks, even though anyone over sixteen will always be old mungos to me. Even myself at the ripe ol' age of twenty two. I wonder how old Vin is, I mean, technically, biologically._

_So now the Paladin stomps up - does he never take off that armor? Maybe there's less of him than there is of Proctor Ingram? No, that's mean, forget you ever thought that, **Robert**. Man I'm gonna have to watch my mouth, here. He and Vin are talking. Vin comes over, I ask if it's time for us to head out and he says "Actually, I'll be back later." To which I stupidly whine in reply,  
"And you won't take me with you? Thanks alot, 'partner'." Yeah. Way to go, smartmouth. Veeerry mature. He hands me a bag of caps and tells me to get a supply assignment or three from Proctor Teagan. That shifty bas…I mean, guy, that quartermaster-in-a-cage. He suggests getting supplies by any means necessary. Ho no, I am not going back to bullying for a living. Maybe they'll donate some crops instead? He suggests I wear proper uniform. I reply that I've been ordered to stay in what Knight Hudson called 'civvies'. Uniform code is the last thing on Vin's mind right now. I make a note to visit Tenpines and wish Vin was coming with me._

_Bring him back to me in one piece, Paladin._


	13. Holotape M - Tour of Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent advances his personal quest with MacCready then does his duty by the Brotherhood under the watchful guidance of Paladin Danse.
> 
> It isn't just suits of power armour that open up.

[*click*] Maybe I should take up with Detective Valentine? I found myself being ordered to investigate missing rations. It turned out that Initiate Clarke was sneaking food down underneath the airport to feed feral ghouls because he once had a friend who was a ghoul. Seriously, some of these soldiers need educating about the difference between ghouled humans and feral ghouls. Honestly, I'm not convinced the Brotherhood give a damn that there **is** a difference. I'll have to keep an eye on that.

Paladin Danse and I despatched the ferals, including a dangerous Glowing One and I convinced Clarke to turn himself in. Job done.

Danse opened up about losing his Commanding Officer, Paladin Krieg. I can relate. I can't help but remember my old platoon when he shares his story. The memory of losing Fischer and J.J. is still raw. It seems less than a year ago to me. Preston reminds me a little of John-Jules, actually; both kind and compassionate, sensitive guys, huh, but J.J. was more of a joker... and a clutz. Thanks for the souvenir, man.

The Brotherhood. Better the devil you know, eh?

[*click*]

_Just before I got too bored, he's back. He looks a little sad…well, sadder but he doesn't have the Paladin with him, I'm glad to see. Then I feel guilty and realise that Vin might be sad because the Paladin might have fallen. I ask him what's wrong, cautiously. Vin tells me he's fine, Danse has gone back to the Prydwen and that he'd just been reminded of his past. I don't pursue that subject, not a history fan._

_Danse is alright, a little intense but I'm relieved to be following Vin again. We make a good team. More importantly, I know what we have to do next and I'm feeling smug that he chose me for this job._

_We're hunting a Courser._

_I ask if we're taking the Fat Man and relieved to hear that we are not. He's never gonna fire one of those indoors again._

_The signal has led us to Greentech Genetics. Man was there a surplus of mad scientists in the old days! Well, sounds like there still is only they are hiding underground these days, calling themselves The Institute. The peeping tracer sound of Vin's PIP-boy gets more insistent. We're through the door. He turns it off and we listen._

_Nothing down here. We sneak upward. Vin pauses to grab junk and look in filing cabinets but they're too darn noisy and I berate him. The man has a junk problem… we can loot later, I say. He nods but holds out some ammo he just found and I take it, 'cause he upgraded his rifle to .50 and I still use .308. Wonder when he's gonna get round to modifying my rifle, please and thankyou?_

_Further up, we hear the exchange of fire. I hear turrets, lasers, wait… was that a missile launcher? I see the bodies of Gunners and hear a commanding voice - one I think I recognise - over the loudspeaker._

_The Courser is cutting through them like, well… like us, actually. There's still a few turrets and targets to mop up. I can't help a small chuckle as I tell myself they're not Gunners, they're 'goners'. Vin glances over but before he can say anything about my involuntary noise, that loudspeaker tells us where we need to be. Up._

[*click*]

Mission accomplished. That was a long fight. Tactical note: the Courser favored Stealth tech and high-impact weaponry. It was after a Synth… Jenny… who the Gunners had locked up. We left one injured officer behind. I don't know if he survived, nor if the sy..if Jenny finished him off or if he died from his wounds but I won't kill an unarmed man in cold blood. Even if he is a scum-of-the-Earth merc. Maybe his friends'll show up and he'll tell them not to mess with the Minutemen or the Brotherhood. I sure hope so. If even one person has a change of heart and joins us to fight the good fight, it'd be worth it.

We have the chip. There's only one group I know of who has a hope of decrypting it.

[*c-lunk*]

_Ah, decrypting an encrypted chip in a crypt. Haha, that's a good tongue twister. I'll remember that for Duncan. Tinker Tom may be three rounds short of a full clip but he knows his stuff. He unscrambles the plastic egg we pried out of the Courser's gray matter and hands Vin the holo that our overgrown science bod needs._

_Vin says we'll take it back to the Glowing Sea soon but for now, he has to hold onto it, we're both expected back on duty._

_For Vin, that means prancing about with Captain Cram whilst I get farm duty, again. He dumps me at County Crossing to pick mutfruit and snipe at ferals. I'm already bored._

[*click*] Reported back to Lancer-Captain Kells on the Prydwen. This all feels so familiar. He's your typical, decent variety of C.O. I am happy to say. I was glad to see that Paladin Brandis has returned. Hardly recognised him for a moment with half his hair shaved off! He's looking better. We sat in the mess for a chat. Now here's a guy I share some common ground with - being back in the military after a…a break. He shared some experiences, a little lesson on Brotherhood rank structuring. He was interested in my little history lesson on what the U.S. military used to be like. In fact, several of them were, including Quinlan, who was taking notes. 

Can't believe the mess situation. Self-service? I mean, how inefficient is that? I recalled doing mess duty, cooking for, what, fifty guys at a time? I put a recommendation to the deck officer and since I had to make myself something anyway, whipped up a big batch of fried cram an' peppered tato Instamash. I hear Maxson liked it.

[*clunk*]

(Paladin Danse)  
 _The new recruit impresses me. My initial skepticism has been replaced with, well to be quite frank, respect. Knight Hudson follows orders well, his obvious experience stands him in good stead and his instincts are right on-point._

_I'm relieved that his mercenary companion has made the right choice in joining us, also. I feel that it would be a mistake to split them up permanently, despite Rhys's reservations. Initiate MacCready is therefore officially Knight Hudson's responsibility._

_Leonard is being too harsh on the new recruits. Well, we all deal with tragedy and loss differently. I wish I could… nevermind. I will have to caution Knight Rhys about his behaviour when I return to Cambridge. In the meantime, Knight Hudson has been communicating with the local voluntary militia, such as they are and had word of a ghoul infestation at Jamaica Plain. The location is rather southerly and the Brotherhood cannot afford to spread our resources too thin but Hudson assures me that if we clear it, defenses will be set up. I believe it is worth the effort and have signed off on the mission._

_Hudson has confided in me that he was a Staff Sergeant, pre-war. I have mixed feelings about this information; that technology was used to artificially expand lifespans is morally wrong, in my book. An exception might be the application to space travel but though that was once a possibility, we are now a long way off leaving our atmosphere once more. For the best, I believe. We have quite the mess to clean up here, first._

_On the other hand, Knight Hudson offers a unique perspective on things. I'm sure Quinlan will request an interview if ever he gets wind of this information. From a tactical perspective, I am glad of the man's solid military foundation. He is adapting well to the ideals and structure of the Brotherhood. There really is not a great deal more I can teach him. I expect that he will reach Paladinhood in a relatively short period of time._

[*click*]

Looks like I've made a new friend. Danse is an outstanding C.O. but I was starting to wonder if there was a human being under all that power armor. There most certainly is, just one that isn't comfortable sharing feelings. 

I decided to tell him about Vault One Eleven. Not specifically about…her… just that I was in cryostasis and that I was the only survivor. I haven't felt ready to tell him about Shaun yet, either.

He told me about his life growing up in Rivet City, a huge, beached aircraft carrier. Can't believe he was a junk trader though he does have an eye for the items that'll fetch more caps. He also told me about his friend Cutler, who joined the Brotherhood with him. Honestly, I assumed he'd been born into this life. Apparently not. 

He also told me about Cutler being unwillingly injected with the Forced Evolutionary Virus and turning into a Supermutant. I can't even imagine having to kill a friend, must have been horrible. I get the feeling that Danse's suppression of anything outside of duty is a result of Post Combat Stress Syndrome. I know that monster too well, myself.

Just earlier today, when we entered the town hall, I cracked a little. *sighing* Paladin Danse paused to admire a painting and said somethin' like, "Peaceful, quiet. The ideal American way of life. All of that's gone now."

He had to shake my shoulder. Memories came flooding back, taking a picnic by a lake, setting my own canvas to paint the scene. Nora used to say I was good, that I should exhibit my work. Art therapy, it was art therapy. Now ironically, a painting should set off my own PCSS and freeze me to the spot. If a feral had dropped outta the ceiling just then…

But I can't afford 'what if's'. 

We cleared the site, found the so-called Treasure. It took restraint not to lift those Hom Dulce cigars. I guess it's the last museum in the Commonwealth. I recommended sending a scribe over later, Danse agreed.

[*click*]

_Having sorted a Raider problem for the Abernathy farmholding, a resource that we may be able to negotiate foodstuffs from at some point, Vincent Hudson has once again proven his calibre._

_I feel that I might have found an opportunity to speak about something that has been bothering me. I count the man as a friend, after all. I begin the conversation with Haylen's reaction to my order over Worwick's mortal wounds but end up admitting that I feel personally responsible for the deaths of four soldiers through my decisions, my own self-doubt._

_What is it about this man that engenders so much trust and enables the lancing of these emotional abcesses? He really does remind me of Cutler.…_

_Vincent tells me that he believes in me - something I realise now that I badly needed to hear - and asks me to be more open about it next time I need to talk. I can certainly do that._

[*clonk_rec*]

….ould love to stay for a meal, thankyou Mrs. Abernathy.

{Oh, call me Connie, Mr. Hudson}

Vin is just fine, Connie. Well, this smells real good.

{Are you going to..um..climb outta that thing, Mr. Paladin, sir?}

[If it's all the same to you, Mr. Abernathy, I prefer to maintain combat readiness.]

Come on, Danse, Sir. Take twenty minutes to enjoy a little hospitality, huh?

[You first, soldier. I'll stand guard outside.]

{*They're a serious lot, this Brotherhood bunch, huh?* Shh, Lu. Take this to Mr. Hudson}

[…]

_I'm more comfortable outside. The shack's floorboards do not seem as if they are sufficiently loadbearing for my T-60, anyway. I do not like removing my armor when on duty. I feel far too vulnerable, too small. There are few things that I ever run from but these weaknesses are on that short list._

_When Hudson emerges, he beckons me inside. I allow myself to be disgorged, removing the F.C. for security. I had hoped that the Knight would take my place outside but find myself glad of his familiar company among these strangers. Smalltalk was never really in my repertoire but Hudson seems at ease, here. His confidence shields me._

[…]

{So, if you don't mind me asking, sir, is it true you came outta the freezer vault over the hill?}

Yes, Blake, it's true. 

{Oh, that must be terrible for you. You lost everyone, you poor man. *Connie, hush*}

No, it's alright, Blake. It actually helps to talk about it. I had more than my fair share of loss before the Big One. Besides, I still have hope that I'll find my son.

_Well this is a revelation. I catch his brief gaze, though I'm not sure what he is trying to communicate through it, so I focus on his words._

In a nutshell, then. My son's name is Shaun. He was a baby when we entered One Eleven, kidnapped, I don't even know when we were defrosted but I was put back in cryo freeze straight after…after they murdered my wife and took him. I woke up later, much later to…to this. Found the kidnapper, sent the bastard to oblivion. The Institute has my boy. He's about ten now, I guess. I intend to find my way in there and get him out. 

_Well then. That explains a few things. His razor sharp focus, for one._

But even before the Vault, I was a soldier, like my father and his brother before me. My cousin was a doctor, he never wanted to sign up but got drafted anyway. I lost him and his father to the war in 2071. Lost my Pop the same year of a heart attack. My best buddies, most were in my squad, fell at Anchorage, January 2077. Didn't have many people left to lose to the bombs.

{I'm so sorry.}

Thanks, Lu, but everyone has it tough these days. I'm just tryin' to find Shaun and make things a little better as I go along.

{Admirable, Knight.}

It's what the fight is all about, isn't it, Sir?

{{Excuse me, General? May I have a word?}}

Um…excuse me, Danse.

{Hello Preston. I mean, Colonel Garvey.}

{{Lucy, nice to see y..}}

[*rec_off, Clunk*]

_I waited until we were en route to ask about the Minuteman calling him General. Hudson laughs and says that it's a running joke, that he's been a general dogsbody for the settlers since shortly after he emerged from cryostasis, doing odd jobs in exchange for caps, shelter, food an equipment. What can I do except take the man's words at face value. It doesn't matter anyway. He's Brotherhood, now._

[*click*]  
Tape full? Whadya mean you stupid fu..oh. delete later.  
[*clack*]


	14. Holotape N - On Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one big juggling act for Vin at the moment but he's finally seeing some light at the end of the tunnel.
> 
> Deacon and MacCready reflect on things whilst Vincent does what he does best apart from soldiering: soldering.

(Deacon)  
 _So Bullseye scored big. He's been running ops like a good little agent, taking on full-portions like a typical Heavy does. Glory was glad of the downtime. I hadn't expected to see her back from Medford so soon but apparently, 'Cocky and Bullwinkle' had it all under control. They make quite the team, I have to say._

_Retrieving Doc Carrington's prototype was a cinch with those two. I'd heard of Gunnerboy's particular skillset, shadowed him plenty around Goodneighbor. I gather from the packages of toys and sweets he'd send off twice a month that he has a kiddo in the picture, somewhere in the Capital Wasteland. Not sure what brought him here but it was good to see him in action, finally._

_No, he's a known quantity. It's the big guy I'm cautiously curious about. Ex-vaultie, General of the Minutemen I hear but aside from clearing threats and bein' something of a homemaker, he's not making any war overtures. No organising little uniformed soldiers into neat rows or anything._

_I've had intel that he's in with the Brotherhood. A finger in every pie, it seems. Now he brings this Courser chip in for analysis, hasn't completed Tom's eye-in-the-sky mission yet - though he probably just wants to make Tom that tinfoil hat instead - and he's gearing up bigtime. What's his play, I'm wondering?_

_So first the horseshoe horror sends Kellogg to hell. Next up on the Cocky and Bullwinkle show, watch a Courser get his chip fried, not to mention a side order of Gonners! Heh. Original Deacon material. Gotta remember that one. I hear Jenny got out safe, too… and we didn't even have to ask. What is next week's show gonna bring?_

_Now - I won't say a word to Des just yet - I'm gettin' that static feeling, the one where if I still had hairs on the back of my neck, they'd be stickin' straight up. Somethin's gonna go down soon. Somethin' big. The worst part? The bit that really worries me? Bullseye hasn't even asked me out to play, yet._

[*click*]

Dammit! If Preston asks me **once** more  
if it's time to retake the Castle, I'm gonna punch that sunflower smile right off his face!

[*clack*]   
[*clunk*] 

Shit. I don't really mean that. He's a good guy but I had to tell him that I can't be the General he needs right now. That I have other priorities. Glad I was wearing my vault suit rather than proper Brotherhood uniform when he appeared at Abernathy. I can't get the ballistic weave to co-operate with brotherhood fatigues. At least the blue jumpsuit takes linings, if not weave.

I don't think he entirely trusts the Brotherhood of Steel but he's not arguing against the extra firepower that's cleaning up the muties and ferals. 

Preston stood firm in the face of my shouted tirade and just gently asked me how the search was going for my son. It took me aback. He used the same manner that Vaughn used to, like a tree bending in the storm. I told him that I have a lead on finding the Institute, that maybe I can help others escape the boogeyman in the process.

He got me to sit down, insisted actually - was I shaking again? - and he reminded me that ghouls, well they've had two hundred years to get used to their condition and the world but for me, I've only been in this remnant of a world for two months. 

I had a big flashback along with the Post Combat Stress Syndrome tremor. I recalled getting in my car, driving on smooth highways to a clean hospital for Shaun's check up. After, I remembered Aunt Olivia babysitting whilst Nora and I went to a movie. We didn't initially want to leave our baby, now I'm glad we accepted the help. That was our last date. I forget what the movie was, though.

Garvey told me that he won't stop calling me General but he would try to take up the slack. More and more settlers are joining the cause now so we're gonna need to organise pretty soon. I agree, a solid base of operations would be ideal. I just… I don"t know where I'll stand if…no, when… I get Shaun back. General, Knight, Heavy… these mantels are uncomfortable but they're getting me where I need to go. Soon. I hear Danse approach. Time to go clear out Wicked Shipping. What time is it? Oh…

12/29/2287 --- 19.43pm

I missed Christmas. Well fucknuke.

[*clunk*]

(MacCready)  
 _Well, well, looks like my knight in .. eurrgh....kinda scuffed up power armor… is back. The Paladin orders me to stick with Vin. He's officially my boss again. I can definitely live with that._

_Once Captain Cra…ahhh… I really have to stop thinking that before I call him it to his face. That'd get me into a whooole heap o' trouble and Vin doesn't need to deal with my sh..my crap. So once Paladin Danse has left, I report to **Knight Handsome** for orders. Hudson. I meant Hudson. I'm gonna put my foot right in my mouth one o' these days. What did Lucy always say? "Think before you sink, pottymouth." Yeah…I'm trying, Lulu. I'm trying._

_We suit up. Glowing Sea, here we come. Again. Only one Deathclaw this time, right on Virgil's doorstep. We take it down, head inside and get some schematics off the big guy. He isn't like most supermutants, too intelligent. Maybe it only partly worked on him. Mostly mutie isn't all mutie, right? So maybe we find this serum and it works on him. I somehow doubt that it cures FEV like Prevent cures Blue Boil Disease, so we're not about to suddenly rid the world of greenskins but it's a deal and I can respect that._

_We get back to Boston Airport. Vincent seems fragile, under that tough shell, like he could break at any moment. I know that feeling exactly. You end up encouraging callouses to the world around you until it's hard for real help and kindness to break through. Not that I take handouts, it's just that you can get too resistant to things. Well, I'm gonna make sure he doesn't tough it out too much. Pretty sure we stashed some whiskey in this workshop cupboard. Heeere it is. Sweet._

[*click*]

I reported to Elder Maxson today. He outright asked me why I want to get into the Institute. I outright replied I'm looking for my son.

I'm no fool, I know that he supports my personal mission because it aligns with his.The opportunist usage is mutual. Brotherhood, Minutemen, Railroad… none of them mean more to me than the road back to my son. There is no other meaning in my life anymore. Except..

{Hey Vin, I mean, Knight Hudson. Fancy a drink? Shift's over!}

Whiskey with a friend. Okay Mac, lemme just finish up here.

[*click*]

_It feels like we've been at Boston Airport forever. Vin doesn't really need me here, except for being a 'gofer', he said. Some kind of animal apparently. He was trying to tell a joke, saying I had to go for this and go for that. Well, Initiate duties mean fetching stuff from the Quartermaster, keeping track of materials - actually I got a commendation from Knight Sergeant Gavil for keeping track of everything we needed to take from storage. I had to write it down for him though, on a terminal. Glad I learned to use a keyboard for playing games. I even wrote a few stories on one, once, carrying on where my favorite comics left off. Not the Mastadonald and Skullpocalypse storyline, though. I haven't read that one yet and it would feel…what's the word? Sacriligious, to write that. No, it was usually Grognak finding a tribe of kids in a cave… I'm daydreaming. Vin nudges me out of my mental meanderings to pour one more drink for us both._

_Whilst he and Ingram have been building the crazy-magic-door-science-machine (usually known as the Signal Interceptor), I've been up on the Prydwen every day. I've had a medical - don't let Cade near me with those dental tools ever again! - sneaking coloured chalks to the Squires and chatting with Paladin Brandis._

_I liked the old fella the moment we found his bunker. I'm glad Vin managed to persuade him up here, we've been swapping road stories. Apparently, he was a pretty good sniper when his eyesight was keen. Oh…and he told me that if Vin does well, things could get confusing, 'cause it was a Paladin Hudson who arrived in the Commonwealth on a solo recon mission investigating increased Supermutant activity, even before Artemis investigated. No, that Paladin Hudson has not been heard of since… I wonder if they could be related?_

_I guess I get on with Brandis 'cause we both feel like outsiders. Thanks to him, I understand these soldiers better and even though I don't wholeheartedly agree with their overall attitudes towards some things, I'm onboard with getting paid to wipe out ferals and Supermutants. They're dam..darn lucky to have me._

[*clunk*]

Reflector platform, check. Beam Emitter, check. Relay Dish, Ingram is giving me a thumbs up, check and Control Console…just the last…screw… check.

There are scribes and initiates still erecting concrete walls around the thing. The only part missing is a power source. A big one. I realised that for reliability's sake it needs to be a fusion generator. I don't currently have the know-how but Ingram suggested refurbishing an intact unit. It'll take a couple of days to locate one and longer to transport, clean and service it, so I've volunteered for the search myself. I know what I'm looking for, just couldn't build one from scratch is all. It'll give Mac and I a chance to go help out a few settlements and keep Preston happy. I don't feel like going back to see D. Too many questions. 

I'm close, Shaun. Hang in there, son.

[*ker-lunk*]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bringing in other companions' - or potential companions' - voices is a challenge. I hope that they all sound like themselves and that the reader is able to follow the change in points of view.
> 
> I am deliberately alluding to or making mention of things that happen in the fic series, Vincent, Redefined. 
> 
> At the moment, though, he is still not really sure who he is anymore, wearing costumes and playing parts, just to get through the invisible door.
> 
> I welcome your comments, whether just a few words or a longer appraisal. I aim to answer every one.


	15. Holotape O - Fatherhood, Intercepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Signal Interceptor built, Vin readies himself to be torn apart and put back together by the Molecular Relay.
> 
> He will never be the same again.

[*click* Rec] 

{…to go?}

Try it now. Power at eighty percent. Why don't we run the conduit direct to this? I got it. 

{Alright, power off. It should just…well, Knight, you know what you're doing! I'm impressed. Ready to test?}

We're go for power. Confirmed, one hundred percent. Power down again, Proctor. Hey Mac, oh thanks. *slurping noise* Needed that.

{Now let me get this straight. You're trusting a machine to safely take you apart, then put you back together.}

I have no other choice here, pal, you know that.

{Well, I'll tell you what, if you make it back…I'll be the first to shake your hand. If you still have one.}

*laughter* Oh shit, this thing's recording again…

[*clunk*]  
[*click*]

Personal log. The device is complete. I'm catching some zees before I plunge into the unknown but I just needed to get this off my mind first.

MacCready gave me something, for luck, something that means a lot to him. A carved toy soldier…and a truth. He lost his wife a few years back. She made this little fella for him, thinking he was a soldier. Well, now he is, not just a mercenary anymore but a man with focus, a man with a mission. 

I didn't ask him to fall in step with me but that's what has happened…and I am so glad of it. He said somethin' earlier. He told me, "You have the world's problems on your back and here you are, helping me with mine, lending me your shoulder like Lucy did. I want you to know how much your friendship means to me."

Quite honestly, I don't what I do without the man. He's become an anchor, helping me stay present and alive in this…this aftermath. He's the best gun I ever had at my side and the best drinkin' buddy to have at the world's end. 

The little wooden soldier is safe in my breast pocket. I asked Mac if he wanted to look after it, in case I got zapped into the Institute bare as the day I was born but he refused. Told me again just not to lose it. I promised.

[*click*]

_We break our fast together, early. There's no-one onsite except Proctor Ingram, Elder Maxson, Knight Hudson and Initiate MacCready. That's me._

_The machine they've built looks ominous, like something out of a comic book. I should know, I've read plenty. In those, something always goes wrong. Oh God, nothing better go wrong. I make a joke about it to hide the fact that I'm terrified that he'll leave me alone again. Not that we're together, well, not in the way I can't help dreaming about…but we're real close. I never thought I'd be able to just be this open with anyone again._

_Vin's straight with me. I can appreciate that. Can't imagine how he's feeling, staring this towering Tesla terror in the face. He steps up on the platform after Maxson briefs him. He turns until he meets my gaze, then he holds it. He's looking at me, not the Proctor, who is calling out the steps as it powers up, not the Elder who stands solid as a stone lion, **me**. Like I'm his anchor or something. I can't see those amazing green eyes for the cop shades but I can feel them, like static electricity. Ingram shouts "Stay safe, soldier!" Then there's a buzz, the loudest crackle and flash of light, the tripod breaks and…_

_Vin's gone._  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Blue white light dug its screaming claws around the inside of Vincent's skull, prickled the back of his eyes, pierced his nerve endings, dissolving everything momentarily into darkness. There was a sudden feeling of motion, then of weightlessness, then of a momentum that slammed every individual cell back into place.

The artificial aftertaste of sweeteners was on his tongue, tinnitus reigned in his deafened ear and his good ear was muffled. The temperature of this new room was slightly cooler than his skin but it felt muggy, heavy, like the air before a thunderstorm. It smelled of warm steel and stale antiseptic, of plastic fumes and lemon. 

The brief urge to retch made him crouch involuntarily. He took a conscious breath, the hearing in his left ear cleared, his right dialled back its constant high-pitched whine to normal levels. Geez, he'd even heard the Interceptor's bang in that one, almost as loud as the rocket launcher explosion that had permanently deafened it.

He noticed that he was still clothed and his hand shot to his breast, fingers sliding under armour. Finding the little carven lump of wood inside the deep pocket of his breastplate, Vin relaxed a little, snapping back into combat readiness.

Through the door of this strange chamber, panels studded with domes that must have been particle transducers, (noted his curious engineer's mind), was another room with a parallell door. No-one was present. To the left, what looked like a service tunnel with a sealed door, old furniture, a familiar red toolbox that he couldn't help but open and pocket the duct tape found within. "Duct tape'll fix just about anything, save bullet holes," Sturges was fond of saying.

The main room contained filing cabinets and first aid boxes of a vaguely familiar design. Where had he seen these before? Ah, Fort Strong. Kellogg's outpost. Makes sense. Scavenging was second nature, now. He flipped open the little plastic boxes, rifled through a few filing cabinets..

" **Hello** "

The voice from the hidden speaker startled him.

" **I wondered if you'd make it here. You're quite resourceful.** "

An older man, his tone measured, his accent as tailored as a newsreader, as syrupy as the actors they used to read for propaganda films started his introduction with flattery. Vin's inner caution light dinged onto amber.

The velvety voice drew him toward the elevator. It named itself. Father. It knew why he was here.

" **I can only imagine what you've heard, what you think of us.** "  
The pristine white elevator slid gracefully downward.  
**I'd like to show you that you may have the wrong impression.**

The view from the glass walls opened up to reveal gleaming subterranean architecture. He might have been in a huge skyscraper but one straight from a science-fiction movie. 'Father's' introduction shifted into something more akin to one of those commercials Vin had seen for places like Milton General Hospital, the type that lulled you into a sense of security whilst also gloating over their own prowess. With a three hundred and sixty degree view of floors and floors of bluish-white and glass interior, with clean, healthy looking people in similar, medical looking uniforms, Vin felt that he was _in_ one of those televised lures.

Until he spotted the first obvious synth. A Gen Two in armour and helm, toting a powerful looking laser rifle. It was oddly _not_ out of place here, against the clinical decor, the running water and potted trees. It still made his stomach lurch and his trigger finger twitch, though.

The elevator plummeted down, away from the bright, futuristic cavern into a private, winding tunnel that led to another elevator, which in turn led to…

_I see the boy through the glass, sat with his back to me. I recognise the red hair and as he rises, his face._

"SHAUN!" Vin poked at the door controls, to no avail. "It's me, it's your Dad!"

_The boy is distressed and calling for his Father. I try to tell him that I *am* his Dad but he doesn't know me, he's calling another man._

_The other man soon walks through the door. White haired, in a white labcoat and a green sweater. He must be in his sixties. He's somehow very familiar… I feel my skin prickle, the edge of my hearing softens as my body threatens to deal with the situation by blacking out. I remember to breathe, breathe and squeeze, squeeze muscles in my lower half, forcing blood into my brain, an old army trick. It works._

_I look at the elderly man properly. I see Nora's eyes but my green irises and he reminds me of, not my Pop but of his self-righteous brother, Ryan. The shock of realisation hits like a blast wave as he says something in code and the caged boy just slumps, as if he'd hit an off-switch. I'm fighting to stay with it, again.This man… this **is** Shaun. _

_My words fight a losing battle. I already know, he doesn't have to prove himself. What he does do is give me facts._

_Shaun was stolen in 2227. It hadn't been ten years, it had been sixty._

_I was too late from the get-go._

_The Institute had been developing synthetic organics but their DNA was corrupted by radiation. Even members of the Institute who had hid underground had been exposed. When they discovered records of an infant in Vault 111, they chose to use Shaun's unspoiled DNA as the basis of their synthetic organics._

_"Through science we are family," says the old man. "Mother (I can't process everything)…what an unfortunate bit of collateral damage."_

_That declaration hits me like a punch to the gut. You used be a boxer, Vin, duck an' weave._

_I don't. The next is like a stranglehold. Kellogg was an Institute asset. Father knew the man was a psychopath and used him anyway. Used him. Prolonged his life, artificially. Then… well, then Father used me to have "some amount of revenge". Shoulda known the breadcrumb trail was too obvious. Maybe I should have taken Valentine's offer._

_So Shaun is the Acting Director of the Institute. I ask why, he boasts that he's the most qualified for the position. God does he sound like Uncle Ryan, the asshole._

_His smooth voice is mesmerising. That's his weapon. I challenge him a little and he's dismissive of everyone who isn't Institute._

_He's too smug for his own good. Suggests I meet the Division Heads, get to know my way around. Something in me kicks me out of my shock, salutes the Brotherhood way and stands to attention. I have a mission._

Controlled containment. The whole place reeks of it. The floor is probably cleaner than most dishes folks in the Wasteland above eat off, the trees kept in their pots leave no fallen branches nor dead leaves floating in the gently recycled water flow. Either those synths are constantly picking up bits of twig or the trees have been engineered, like plastic plants, but more realistic. The air around them seems fresh, it just doesn't smell right. 

Vincent met Allie Filmore first, head of the Facilities Division. Her expression and tone of voice shouted pity at him in a very uncomfortable way, alongside the 'welcome' and 'we do hope you'll join us' rhetoric that would be repeated several times over.

The door to Bioscience shushed open with a gentle waft of clinical greenhouse air. Vin caught snippets of conversation as he wandered in, along with the phrase "Redefine Mankind." Dr. Clayton Holdren introduced himself. A blonde, young looking man in a green and white uniform. All their clothes looked like they'd come straight out of the Captain Cosmos comics, Vin thought. He was invited to look around.

_I really hadn't expected to see gorillas but I'm not overly surprised that they aren't real. I wonder if there are any real ones left at all. Always did admire these big guys._

_I pad around tables of plants and find a door. Everyone's too focussed on their work and I slip through. A terminal sits on the desk. What can I say, I'm nosey sometimes._

_Don't even need to hack it. A place called Warwick is mentioned, a very fertile farm. I heard the scientists talking about this earlier; the settlers boy, Wally is near 10yrs old now. As for Mr. Warwick… a cold jolt goes through me. The man's a synth replacement. I hadn't heard of this place until now but I'm sure as heck gonna ask Preston about it._

Robotics. Vin was welcomed by the sounds of machinery, lasers or some kind of focussed energy beam, the sloshing liquid bath in the centre and the murmur of humans and Gen Twos going about their business. He also heard something about synths showing Rapid Eye Movement, dreaming being evidence of synths having souls. The argument was taking place on his right, his deafened side; machinery interfered on the left but he'd heard enough to feel that he agreed with the man called Dr. Alan Binet.

A newborn synth, a man, stepped out of the pool of russet liquid. A GenTwo handed him a pair of briefs to put on and ushered him through a narrow door to 'Processing'. 

_I see a large white ring being dipped in some kind of clear solution, like a bubble blower but instead of blowing, the ring is set on a stand and a skeleton is printed onto the near invisible film. The robot arm picks it up, moves it to a different station and muscles and tendons are printed onto the bone. Electric shocks make the skinless body convulse, then the ring is dipped into the liquid pool which boils. A moment later, the synth, clothed now in skin and hair, sits up and walks calmly, wordlessly out of the pool._

_Mesmerising… and horrifying. The scientists are all really pleased with themselves. These synth bodies are stronger, need no sleep, are safe from the ravages of hunger and disease, apparently. Yet, something doesn't sit right for me with their grand plan.…but I have still to find the person I'm looking for._

The Synth Retention Bureau. Sickly clean like everywhere else in this place, here they also wiped away entire minds. Vin walked down the corridor and headed left, toward the slightly raised voices, past a Courser in its black faux-leather coat. Everything was immaculate but somehow, he could still smell the iron tang of blood. Synth blood and guts were practically identical to human, right down to a molecular level. The Institute had somehow tidied away the myriad deviations and discrepancies in their DNA. 

After an awkward conversation with Justin Ayo, Vin was free to look around.

_They leave the room, I read the terminal. I'm sure that Justin fella'll be keepin' an 'Ayo' on me but right now it's like they're deliberately letting me in. Their boss places a lot of trust in me. I think Shau.. no, **Father** , assumes I'm like him. Judging by the lead weight in my stomach, I rather fear we're very, very different men._

_The terminal throws up some familiar names and places. I'm gettin' fed up of cold shivers. I read and take note:_

_Informants list:  
Cricket. Figures.  
Tommy Lonegan (Combat Zone) Keep meanin' to check that place out.  
Trashcan Carla. Shit.  
Doc Weathers. Not a surprise.  
A.J. (chem dealer, Goodneighbor)  
Marowski (chem supplier, Goodneighbor) Better tell the mayor.  
Lucas Miller. Aww crap. I kinda like him.  
Henry Cook (barkeep, D.C ) Must be that upper stands place I haven't set foot in yet._

_There's one more._

_S9-43 Boston Airport. With a note not to engage. Fuck. They've got their hooks in the Brotherhood._

The sound of laser fire came from inside the Advanced Systems inner doorway. One of the scientists was in the shooting range testing weaponry, apparently at this point, just doing it for fun.

Vin entered Madison Li's office and closed the door behind him. He'd prepared himself for this conversation. He wore his militia hat. It was a bit 'cowboy' and made him look laid back. He'd taken a grape mentat minutes before to see if it worked on the Synth in the commisary, a little experiment of his own. Oddly, it did and the effects hadn't quite worn off yet so the conversation got off to an unexpectedly easy start and continued well, even when the chems wore off. _Maybe I should've called myself Charmer instead of Bullseye…_

Doctor Li expressed frustrations at the lack of transparency. Vin was beginning to get that impression from things he'd read on terminals or heard from holotapes that he'd lifted. MacCready had given him some pointers there.

She put a Courser relay in his PIPboy whilst they spoke. The thing that convinced her to consider returning to the Brotherhood was hearing that Brian Virgil was alive… but she needed proof. She quietly gave Vin codes to enter the FEV lab and bid him good day.

_I need to find..a...a lavatory. Think I'm gonna be sick. Need somewhere private to record a holo, too. Get it all out, literally._

_Dammit. Where's the vodka? Vodka for mouthwash, that's better. Where's that blank holo… okay. Here we go._

[*clunk*]  
Personal record. Everything’s changed. Everything except war, that is.  
I found him, not before he found me, though. Oh, Nora… our son was stolen from us in more ways than one. He was brought up by people who taught him some warped values. ‘Mankind, redefined’ they say. They’ve forgotten their humanity, worshipping science, hiding underground, using what is left of us to experiment on. Oh, they’ll argue they’re doing it for the good of mankind whilst lying to themselves.  
Shaun. Who would you have become if we’d raised you?  
No room for that. Got to re-assess the situation, survive this and bring as many to safety as I can. You can’t tell the synths from the human beings but I’ve heard enough to wonder if that matters. These beings think for themselves. Some of them get their brains washed for the trouble. Wouldn’t put it past the Institute to be working on a way to 'reset’ humans, too.  
I’m stuck in this mess. The Brotherhood seemed like a good bet but they’re not the military I trained with. They’re a good team but again, seem to have their own agenda, prizing technology yet rejecting synths. Setting themselves so far apart from the few good people who scrape by. I’m torn. There’s so much we could do to reclaim civilisation but there are conflicts of interest every which way I look.  
The Minutemen…looks like the old voluntary militia got reborn just to run out of time again. Just one small group living in my home town.  
Then there’s the Railroad. Synth sympathisers, they run a tight crew. They use secrecy as their main weapon. I didn’t have orders to infiltrate but I need to be sure about Shaun and what he is responsible for. What I am indirectly responsible for. I already know what has to be done but… oh Nora. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. ”  
[*click*]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last holotape entry is actually the first Fallout fic chapter I ever wrote, Chapter 1 of Vincent, Redefined. They started out as short entries written directly onto Tumblr.
> 
> So from here, 'Vincent, Unrefined' will explore the details of Vincent's early story in a little more depth until I feel that the two converge fully and 'Vincent, Redefined' properly takes over.
> 
> One note about MacCready's wooden soldier: in this fic, the actual 'romanced' status happens later in the tale, in Vincent, Redefined. Be patient with Vin, he gets there in the end!


	16. Holotape P - Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vin stares the ugly truth in the face and realises what he can - and cannot - change.

The door to Bioscience hissed closed behind him, leaving Vin in the short corridor before the inner door. To his right was another, closed door. He listened for footsteps and hearing none, snuck inside. For a large man, Vincent was light on his feet.

The corridors were empty, save for carts and upturned chairs. It was a maze; he unlocked some doors to find dead-end storage rooms, taking the opportunity to lift a few stimpaks, some ammunition and a few tools that looked useful. Technically it wasn't stealing, he'd been accepted into the Institute because of his relationship with Father but also technically, he didn't work here yet. 

He tried more doors, finding his way through the maze until one door opened onto a much older section. The laser tripwire didn't catch him out. He'd disarmed so many of these at Jamaica Plain recently, until Danse had tripped one of the very last and set the turrets off. 

Vin was suddenly acutely aware of being alone. He was so used to having a squad or at least a sniper at his side. The little carved figure inside his pocket pressed gently against his chest as it swelled with each breath, enough to remind him that he had people who cared, waiting above and wishing him luck.

Cautiously, he rounded a corner. The now too-familiar smell of damp, rust and rotting concrete met his nostrils, along with the faint, sickly sweet pungence of dead flesh.   
A sharp, mechanical whirr caught his ear. He flicked on his V.A.T.S. system which highlighted his targets.

Turrets exploded under Vin's aggressive attention; the terminal guarding the door gave way to the password Dr. Li had provided and then another mechanical sound hit Vin's one good eardrum.

He could feel his pulse quicken, the moist slick of sweat begin to tickle his brow. He swapped out his rifle for his suppressed Shotgun. He and Mac had exchanged banter about naming weapons. As a rule, MacCready didn't like to name his guns. Vin had to tag them with something for his PIPboy inventory, so that when he had brief custody of the sniper's trademark tool, it was only down as 'Mac's .50 Sniper'. Practical and straightforward. However, they had made a joke about the suppressor on Vin's current weapon and as a result, it was called 'Shhotgun'. It certainly made quick, quiet work of the assaultron, whose spinning tri-claws had scraped at his combat armoured forearm, the deadly metal lily of a face blossoming open, about to stream a red scream of destruction. Before it could, though, Vin twisted to one side and at point blank range, filled its power centre with buckshot. The thing fell heavily to the ground, out like a stubbed cigarette, cracking the aged tiles.

The room he was in was storage. Vin checked the space in his pack and swiped a few useful odds and sods. Further in, past another terminal, the source of the rancid odour was apparent: muties and catmeat. Vin turned a few more turrets into salvage and opened a final door.

The Forced Evolutionary Virus laboratory. The corpses of two supermutants floated upright in giant cylindrical tanks, a third giant test-tube lay smashed on the ground. Vin absentmindedly pocketed pens and small tools as he headed for the terminal. It was covered in a fine layer of dust but still operational. Next to the screen was a holotape. He loaded that into his Personal Information Processor and listened as at the same time, he accessed terminal records and scanned the bright green text flashing quickly up on the dark screen.

_There is plenty of evidence of the Institute's crimes against mankind on here. There are other holos in the room that tell a similar tale but hearing on tape what Shaun…'Father'.. is really like…I'm shaken. He's unscrupulous._

_I just do not understand their logic, these Institute Scientists. They're so full of **bullshit.** 'Mankind, Redefined' my ass. Having made synthetic biological people, whose bodies they claim to be so much better than nature's model, they then turn these synths out of their factory and treat them as slaves, as soulless androids despite evidence to the contrary. At least the Railroad recognises them as having free-will but I can't condone what **they** did to H2, wiping his memories and setting him loose. Our memories are part of who we are. I wouldn't even give up my most painful ones - and I have quite a collection, now - because working through that anger, loss and grief made me stronger exactly **because** I had to push against it. Reps for the soul, I guess._

_Also, how is producing an army of super-slaves gonna turn out for humans in the end? Yeah, they have recall codes but that won't work if the creators suddnly get mobbed by their creations. Not to mention the moral implications of creating a being with free-will… okay my main example from experience is Nick and I'm pretty sure that the spark of the human he was just got transferred to that wreck of a chassis he walks around in now. He's too genuine a person to be an imitation._

_These synths… they got the DNA from Shaun to make the bodies so where did they lift the personalities of these synthetic individuals from, huh? We know they copy people. I suspect a grand form of plagiarism is going on here and they're kidding themselves that Gen three synths are just fancy robots. I don't know if a synth could live without that plastic doo-dad in their head but I bet it controls them...and I bet it sometimes goes wrong. The more complicated the system, the more errors can creep in. Basic engineering._

_Shitbomb! Virgil's serum… focus, Vinnie. Oh, there it is. Right, best get this proof back to Dr. Li, zap outta here, grab Mac and pay Virgil a visit._

The wind howled in a green sky, singing a mournful tune in time to the tic-tic-tic metronome of Vin's geiger counter. The two men in power armour suits that were covered in bug guts and goo stomped cautiously down the hill toward the cavemouth. No deathclaw welcoming committee this time, thank Grognak. MacCready hung his axe at his waist and followed Knight Hudson inside.

The overgrown biologist was delighted. He took the serum and examined it, spouting reams of scientific jargon. Vin couldn't help himself and sarcastically, enquiringly, spouted some old jargon back, words that he had got from one of Vaughn's medical textbooks years ago and made a drinking game with to see if they could still pronounce phrases like 'reverse transcriptase' and 'nucleotide synthesis'. The results had been hilarious and he made a mental note to play that game with Mac, next time they were at a bar.

The big guy needed rest. Vin really hoped it worked. If it did, there was the slimmest chance of a cure for F.E.V., other than 'treatment' by applied ammunition.

_I'm back in the Institute. That relay in and out doesn't get any easier. The harsh white light hurts my eyes, the scent of disinfectant and unidentifiable chemicals scathes my lungs. A gentle music plays in the background, as pleasant as soft words speaking threats._

_Father is waiting for me in his quarters.He smelled of Wintergreen mints. I can't stand that; uncle Ryan used to eat those things too._

_He asks me what I'd do if someone stole from me. Thinking of the moment he was taken from us, I replied that he should know very well but what he's actually talking about isn't the same at all._

_He informs me that a synth escaped, was memory wiped by the Railroad and is now leading a raider gang. Now I have no problem dealing with raiders, what I **do** have a problem with is that he views these synths as property._

_I've run with the Railroad long enough to know that, despite their synthetic biology, these third generation synths are people. Aside from emotions and thoughts and personalities, they have **free will** but to these sequestered scientists, they are just fancy dolls to play with, servants they can order around, tools they can switch off or reset anytime they feel like it._

_The Railroad is almost as bad, tearing away their identity and memories, replacing them with new ones that they got… well I have a feeling I know where they got them._

_It's not unusual in the Commonwealth for people to go missing and never turn up._

_Well maybe their souls are being burgled and set up in new bodies that have a gadget that controls them; the synth component. As much as I'm starting to sound like Tinker Tom here, it's also the only explanation that makes any sense._

_I search the eyes of the man who is my son and see less soul there than in my mechanical detective friend. I'll play this game a little longer, I tell myself, give Shaun a chance to open up and prove me wrong about him and yes, I will go and meet the Courser to deal with that raider boss, I say out loud to him. For the good of the Commonwealth._

The chopping whirr of a vertibird sent gusts of wind down over Vin and Mac as they approached Nahant Wharf. The air was suddenly rent by the gunfire of raiders popping shots off at the aircraft. It in turn was facing a foe just out of sight, so Knight Vincent Hudson commanded Aspirant MacCready to pick off the raiders.

Through his scope, Vin could make out a red searchlight; a sentrybot. Edging closer, he took several shots, a little too late though as the bot's missile struck a fueltank, sending the Vertibird spinning toward the ground, the warm air from the tank's explosion hitting the two just as Vin's next shot found its mark in the bot's combat inhibitor. The 'bird crashed just as the robot shuddered to a final halt. These Vertibirds always flew too low to deploy parachutes. "Lancers must have balls of steel," Vin muttered to himself. He waved a warning to Mac to back away, seeing relatively intact old vehicles in the vicinity. 

Sure enough, the sentry bot exploded. Vin protected his good ear. They waited for ten long seconds and then moved toward it, intent on the salvage. Mac shouted 'spark!' and Vin heard a small puff, saw flames lick at a truck's engine and moved away hurriedly. He covered both ears as the fusion tank effulgently erupted.

The Courser had sauntered up to meet them. He greeted Vin with, "I've neutralized the perimeter guard. Just give the word and we can start the assault on the main flotilla." Vin looked out toward the upended cargo ship wreck and its network of floating shanty-town rafts and old boats.

Mac scoffed at the way X6-88 spoke, "Who the hell talks like that?"

"I used to, for one," Vin rumbled, "back when I was a Staff Sergeant." He made a sign for Mac to keep a close eye on the Courser as he led the way. 

Raising 'Righteous Authority', Vin crept out onto the dock, taking cover in an old shed. Three raiders went down to his concentrated beam of energy. He'd learned early on in his army cadet training what a laser was. The very word stood for 'Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation'. People used to think that manipulated energy made the world go round... well, it certainly brought it down.

Mac's rifle fired two precise bursts and cleared the way forward. The Courser had taken its own route in, so Vin pressed onward with Mac close behind. The boards creaked, waves lapping near their edges.

"First we're gonna get wet, then we're gonna get cold," Mac moaned. 

"If you fall in, swim to the main hull if there's cover, " Vin commanded. 

"I hate swimming," grumbled Mac under his breath.

Traversing the hotch-potch maze of planks connecting old ships and newer rafts together, suddenly raiders started popping out of the woodwork. Vin was careful to keep his footing and keep his weapon dry as he dealt with targey after target but by the time he'd advanced to where he could see a handy platform lift move across from the Libertalia, he'd lost sight of MacCready.

Vin's heart started pounding in panic. _Where is he, dammit?_ He even risked calling out "Mac!" but there was no sign. A bullet whizzed past and the Knight was called to task again. He found the shooter and stopped her in her tracks then pressed forward, hoping that Mac would follow his earlier order.

The platform ferried him across. He was exposed but picked off three raiders before the contraption came to a halt. Stepping off, suddenly a figure was in his face, reeking of vodka and sweat with the unmistakeably acrid fertiliser tang of Jet lingering beneath. The guy roared into Vin's face, spittle spattering his cheek, saw-edged machete moving backward as the raider's arm coiled like a spring ready to be unleashed, only to keep moving backward instead of chopping forward as Vin's silenced shotgun took it off at the shoulder.

He heard footsteps below him and swung round, squeezing the trigger slightly.

"Woah, woah, woah! Euurgh..I **hate** getting wet!" 

Vin grinned broadly. He'd never been so happy to hear Mac griping. The grin soon retreated behind his game-face when another raider reared his head. Mac soon sorted that one out, with a witty comment to follow: 'Wholesale slaughter on the high seas.' Would make a great story wouldn't you say?" Vincent's grin returned and brought a chuckle along with it.

They pressed upward until they found the leader Gabriel's quarters and the Courser waiting within.

It - he - gave Vincent Gabriel's recall code so that he could be relayed safely back to the Institute. Vin thought he'd heard the code right but wasn't sure. X6-88 slipped back into the shadows somewhere whilst Hudson and MacCready poked around the room. Vin ordered his companion to pick up a weapon inscribed with "Le Fusil Terribles" whilst he started to clack away at a keyboard.

"D'you have to read _every_ terminal you find? C'mooon, leave it!"

"Wait!" Vin hissed. "Look here, this guy started out as a Minuteman. Wonder if he was human back then and got abducted or if that was just an implanted memory? Either way he went downhill pretty fast. Poor guy lost hope."

" 'Poor guy'? He's a fu.. ughhh..a freaking raider _and_ a synth to boot!"

"Didn't seem none too happy with his choices, judging by all the booze," Vincent commented as he climbed the ladder toward the hatch.

Gabriel and three henchmen were waiting. Vin hesitated to shout the recall code, partly because he wasn't sure he'd heard it right but mostly because it just felt like the wrong thing to do. He decided on bravado, wondering if he could talk the guy into surrendering and out of his stash. The tactic was starting to work but X6 suddenly said the code, Gabriel went into a standing slump and the goons let rip. In a flash of blue-white light, the Courser and synth were gone and a moment later, the raiders were sprawled on the deck.

Mac looked in the trunk and with a hopeful smile said, "We're splitting all this, right?"

* * *  
 _I give the tape that I retrieved from the Institute mainframe to Proctor Ingram. She shows me something pretty impressive: the pieces of a giant robot called Liberty Prime that they have in storage. I'm pretty sure I have my 'gearing up' face on, like Vonnie used to say whenever I started a new project._

_Mac responded to it less than favourably by saying that he'd heard tales of 'Liberty Prime jr.' stomping around the Capital Wasteland. He was shocked that I'd help one stomp around the Commonwealth. Robots are tools! Gotta be responsible when you use tools, of course._

Proctor Ingram called Knight Hudson to the platform. When she asked him to build something called 'electromagnetic actuators' his face was a picture. Vin was caught between the excitement of being asked to build something and the panic of not knowing what on scorched earth an 'electromagnetic actuator' actually was. 

Ingram smirked. She'd just wanted to see Vin squirm. The two of them had developed a healthy working relationship consisting mainly of mutual respect, banter and the occassional tease. Of all the Brotherhood members save Danse, who had become something of an older sibling figure in his eyes, Vin felt most at ease with Ingram. They shared a passion, red hair and a stubborn streak a mile wide.

It didn't take Vin and Mac long to find the electromagnets in an old hospital. They brought that and a large scrap haul back to Boston Airport, where Vin quickly assembled the parts based on Dr. Li's detailed and precise schematics. That job done, he had time to pay an ally a visit.

[*click*] I'm never letting a Deathclaw get close enough to pick me up again, that's for sure. I dented my shotgun punching it in the face. When I was clear, Mac was able to put it down. 

Dr. Virgil didn't quite look like I expected him to. Oh, he's human again. He said the serum worked on only on one strain of F.E.V. but that he'd be able to start research in earnest for curing other strains. I'm going to make sure he gets provisions, somehow. If the Brotherhood would take him under their wing like they have Dr. Li, there might be some hope for those green bastards. 

[*click *]  
[*cCclick*]  
This might be a stupid thing to commit to tape but…well, Nora always said better to have proof than not, even when it doesn't seem to be in your favor. Bless my legal-eagle, rest in peace, sugarbomb. So here it is:

Father informed me of more escaped synths, that the situation with the Railroad was getting out of hand, that they seemed to have become 'emboldened' of late. Yeah. They are getting cocky and I haven't helped matters in that regard.

He sent me to Bunker Hill, to retrieve them. I of course did my duty and reported this move to my C.O…. I mean, Elder Maxson. I was torn, though. These poor refugees, trying to find a better life and faced with outright death or a death of personality. I met the Courser for instructions but followed a rebellious hunch, shot the Gen twos trying to get through the main gate, climbed a barricade, found the side door open and headed straight for the cellar door I'd seen on my last visit here. We..I..slipped past the Railroad troops. I may have been in Brotherhood Power Armor but the right hand signal let them recognise a friendly. I steeled myself and ignored the fight going on around me, a fight that the Railroad seemed to be winning. I had no time, the Courser was right behind us. I managed to speak to the synths. One offered me a bribe to let them escape. I wasn't prepared to kill these innocents, nor to hand them in to the Railroad. I accepted their caps just as the enraged Courser barrelled into me. I…alright, we - I had backup - despatched our second ever Courser and left the site hastily. I wasn't prepared to face Brotherhood officers asking why I hadn't provided covering fire nor Railroad agents who would be wondering the same. The Director's gonna be mad I killed a Courser and let his 'property' escape. All three factions wanted those synths, dead or wiped. I regret nothing. Nothing.… but everything is pointing to choices and actions I don't want to have to take. 

[*click*]

(MacCready)  
 _Well that was a heck of a way to earn sixty caps. Scratch that, we split it evens. Thirty caps. Thirty measly caps for running the gauntlet between our own soldiers and our secret friends._

_We clomp up to Taffington, hide our Power Armor outta sight in the big shed over the lake and when we get out, I see that Vin is shaking. He doesn't say two words to me. Sometimes he does this thing where he just… drifts away. I can almost see those green eyes go dim. It's kinda like shock but, I don't know, trickier. Like sometimes you see what brings it on, sometimes not. I'm guessing shooting the Courser is going to give him problems with Shaun._

_God that gives me the shivers. He found his son who was supposed to be a baby and now he's, like, old. Grandfather old. It just ain't natural. The worse thing is, he thought he could **rescue** his son. It's way too late for that._

_I make him sit, rest and eat - he says 'yes, Sir' to me. Well, now he **has** said two words but after those, I don't get anymore. I think he just slipped a Med-X and downed it with whiskey. Not a good idea. I pull up a chair so I can watch him and make sure he doesn't try breathing vomit in his sleep but that watch only lasts an hour. I must look wrecked 'cause Denver, the headman of this settlement has insisted on taking over whilst I get some sleep, too. I'm not about to refuse._

_I dream of Grognak fighting synth gorillas who are wearing Tunnel Snakes jackets._


	17. Holotape Q - True Selves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent faces the Director and the Elder and has to make some very difficult decisions.
> 
> MacCready steadfastedly follows his Knight, even when they don't entirely agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm assuming that readers have played Fallout 4, Brotherhood path. If not, SPOILERS AHEAD! 
> 
> As always, do leave a comment at the end, just a word to let me know you were here, thankyou.

The PIPboy flashed up a notification. All it said was "21st Jan 2288, Meet Father on CIT Roof. Urgent."

MacCready craned his neck in again from peering over Vin's meaty shoulder and said defensively, "You'd better be taking me with you."

"Now why would I leave my guardian angel behind?" Vin asked quietly. He didn't meet Mac's gaze but focussed on planning the fastest route there on his wrist-mounted information processor. If he had, he might have caught the sudden blush sitting on Mac's fine cheekbones.

_His 'guardian angel'? Maybe he does have feelings for me after all. Or maybe I'm just trying to grab a Perfectly Preserved Pie-in-the-sky. I've got about as much chance._

_I turn quickly and carry on cleaning "Shhotgun". Maybe I should call my rifle something after all? "Longshot". Yeah, that'd be about right. I reach into my bag for a fresh rag and touch soft paper instead. Wrong pocket. My fingers linger on the folded edge, my precious paper treasure, the latest letter from Duncan. It says "Dady an hiz frend in thu skai". The fact that he's writing at four years old, whilst still not fully well, fills me with pride. Spelling comes later, I'd rather he gets his thoughts down. He's drawn a party balloon with a house underneath for the Prydwen. He's never met Vin so my description has been translated into a blue supermutant with a mustache as long as his arms. Nice try, kiddo._

_I force myself to switch my focus back to finishing cleaning the guns when my chest aches from missing my son. We have to go and meet Vin's son soon. That thought brings with it a heavy feeling that hangs about me like cold, wet clothes._

The old man surveyed the tattered horizon, the broken bones of tall buildings silhouetted against a cloud-shrouded setting sun.

Vincent tasted every word his improbably elderly son spat out: "The Commonwealth is dead, there's no future here. The only hope for humanity lies below…  
The Institute **rescued** me."

Like lemon and vinegar and salt and mould.

Vincent was "the backup plan", only a secondary source of prewar DNA for their immoral forays into biological synthesis.

Father had been the one to have Vincent released from Vault 111 and when he asked why, Father had casually, impassively replied, "I suppose I wanted to see what would happen..an experiment of sorts."

MacCready stood well back, out of earshot of the conversation, guarding Vincent's hollow power armour and watching like a predator, poised to act on any threatening movement he might see. The trail of Supermutants and Synths they'd had to push through to get here had raised his adrenaline into a biological hair-trigger.

Vincent stared earnestly at his son. "I made a choice. I let the synths go free."

"Why would you do something so stupid?" Father in his hubris, assumed a parental role in this situation.

Vin stood firm. He silently called on Nora to back him up. "It was the right thing to do."

"This is not about morals," argued the Director. 

_That's where you're utterly wrong, son_ Vin thought. "I want out."

Father was quietly fuming. He was one to keep a lid on his anger, until it had turned hard and blackened and poisonous. "After all this, you're just going to walk away?" he asked incredulously.

"I can't do it, I can't be a part of this." Vin's own anger and disgust had no issues with showcasing itself in his face. The corners of that idiosyncratic moustache lifted at the corners of his sneer.

"I had hoped we could be a family again, hoped that you would share our vision of the future."

Vin shook his head and his mind surrendered all the words of reason he had intended to try to talk into Shaun. All he could see was Father's brilliant mind, claustrophobically moulded into immoral institute dogma and closed to empathic, compassionate change.

"I'm afraid there's no room for sentimentality here, father," said the old man. "If you aren't with us, then you are against us," stated the son of 'Nate' and Nora, now Director of the Institute, emancipating himself with that short statement.

"Do not interfere with us. I hope you can find some amount of peace… " Vin was silent. Father pressed, condescendingly, "You are not too overwhelmed?" There was no concern in the question, only cold impatience for an answer.

Vincent's heart was broken. He could still feel the soft touch of muslin, of the blue blanket covered in rockets with the small infant wriggling within his arms, smell that fresh, sweet scent and feel the soft, downy hair as he'd kissed his baby boy on the head. It was really such a short time ago.

"I dreamed of you as an adult for so long," Vin forced through downturned lips that threatened to snarl, or cry, or both. "Here you are. And I'm so dissappointed."

The Director's face showed disdain, nothing more.

"Goodbye, father." Shaun said. A blue-white flash and the Director of the Institute was gone, back underground to his lair.

MacCready saw the flash and was moving toward Vin before he knew it. He brought his power armour to a clunking halt, towering over the man who usually stood a few inches above him. Vincent looked smaller, even without bringing the suit into consideration. Mac fought the urge to climb out and hold him. He thought it might spark an angry reaction, getting too personal. He needed to stay professional anyway and they both needed to get out of here but Vin stood stock-still, his eyes staring far away again.

Mac needed to say something to snap him out of it, so he said, "If we run across any escaped synths again, next time… maybe we should just look the other way."

Knight Hudson's head snapped round. It was a few long, perilous moments before he finally said, "I'll discuss that comment with you later, MacCready. Right now, we need to get out of here."

"Copy that, Sir."

[*click*]

After the… meeting…at C.I.T., we journeyed to Somerville to rest and prep. Built a settlement beacon and generator after destroying a nearby threat. I wonder what a sentrybot is doing out here? Note to self, a father and two children live on this farm. Prioritise defense and development.  
[*clack*] [Eject holotape]

[*klunk*]   
Personal record. I'm really not sure what Mac's stance on Gen 3 synths is. He commented that he wanted to look the other way if we find any more escapees and yet his face tells me he doesn't like them. At least he's not being openly aggressive toward them. As for my own stance, I am more and more convinced that they have a right to live. They should never have been created in the first place but they're innocent in all this. It's Father's fault. I can't even use the name we chose for our son on that man. He's not my….ah, fuckit. I can't.  
[*click*]

It must have been 2am. Vincent ejected the holotape he'd just recorded and stashed it back in his secret pocket. He glanced over toward the firepit where Mac was smoking a cigarette, trying to wind down after the fight with the sentrybot. 

The stars were bright, even at the glowing horizon in the southwest. All was quiet, still, only the faintest lazy breeze crawled its way along the ground, dragging a damp mist with it. Vin shivered. He clutched his right arm to him suddenly when it started shaking. Damn that Post Combat Stress. Wouldn't it ever leave him? Probably not, the way he kept collecting 'trigger experiences', as old Doc McKinley used to call them. Vincent's wars all blended together messily in a palette of unattractive biochemical reactions. The Buffout itch was scratching at the door again but he'd locked that monster out months…well, centuries…ago.

Mac's hat lay upside-down beside him, his right hand lifting the shortened cigarette to his lips, his left fingers rubbing some small object between between them. Vin sat down beside him. Very close beside him.

"What've you got there?"

Mac exhaled smoke away from him. He knew Vincent didn't like cheap cigarettes. "Hmm? Oh." His hand balled into a fist. "Nothing." No, it wasn't nothing, he thought to himself and changed his mind. He opened his fingers to reveal what Vin at first took to be a miniature hot-cross bun.

"Duncan lost a button off his cardigan when I said goodbye. It got caught on my holster strap." He shrugged. "I kept it. Just something to keep me closer to my son, y'know?"

"You should go to him, R.J."

Mac wasn't used to Vin using his initials. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. "I told you, I owe you. I have to see this thing through. Besides, _Knight Hudson, sir_ we have a mission to accomplish.

Vin just nodded. Mac tucked the little round, brown button back inside his hat and replaced the hat on his head.

"So that was _your_ son, huh? Must be weird, him being older than y.."

MacCready was interrupted by the big man next to him slumping and letting out a muffled sob. 

"I was just an experiment to him," Vin said through a tight jaw. "They _utterly_ stole my son, Mac, corrupted him." Vin tried to strangle the sobs and won out, briefly. "He threw me out. I wasn't gonna play his little game anymore. He used Kellogg to do his dirty work off the books, then he used me to exact vengeance on Kellogg. Maybe he wanted me as that psychopath's replacement. 'No room for sentimentality'… he called his own mother's murder 'unfortunate collateral damage.' "

Mac dropped his cigarette stub, squishing it into the mud with his boot. He reached across Vin to pull his shaking right hand over to hold it in both of his smaller, grubbier ones. Quietly, he said, "Shaun would have been a different person if you and Nora had gotten the chance to raise him."

Vin met Mac's gaze, those perceptive, bright blue eyes seeing straight to the heart of the matter. He saw MacCready's raw, unguarded compassion whilst feeling the slight pressure of his hand increase gently on his tremulous arm. Vincent dipped his head and leaned into MacCready, sobbing quietly but uncontrollably and allowed his guardian angel to hold him. 

It was a long night. Neither of them could sleep. Vincent, when he could cry no more, explained in detail to Mac what he'd seen inside the Institute. Finally, just after sunrise, they both gratefully collapsed onto John Somerville's spare military cots and got a few hours sleep. 

By midday, they had eaten, geared up and headed out to meet Scribe Haylen at the waypoint. They passed a vault entrance, guarded by Gunners and two assaultrons. The pair quickly eliminated the threat, picked up their mission from Haylen and headed back into the Glowing Sea.

* * *  
Sentinel Site Prescott

The heavy wind howled in the green sky. Vin heard MacCready's helmet mic crackle in his own helmet's speaker. "What the hell… is that a..pyramid?" Though the door and out of the pressing nuclear nimbostratus clouds, he looked into the depths of the silo and exclaimed, "Holy sh..holy crap, are those…missiles?"

"Didn't know you were religious, Mac," Vin teased, a mood at odds with his real feelings when faced with the very objects that had ruined his world.

"I'm not. It's just a saying, man."

They were tasked with finding and flagging a supply of Mk28 nuclear warheads, ammunition for Liberty Prime. Vin was conflicted about using them but he had his orders and knew that nothing else currently available would be strong enough to break through the thick crust between the old Cambridge Institite of Technology and the new, subterranean Institute.

The old steel grating clanged with their steel-shod footsteps, echoing around the huge chamber. A few ferals stirred from their decades-long slumber and were soon put to sleep for good.

Vin made quick work of finding passwords and opening doors. _Is there any kind of lock the guy can't pick?_ Mac wondered.

They followed the metallic maze down into the cooling water pipe system. Despite MacCready being encased in watertight power armour, he still managed to grumble, "If humans were meant to swim, the radiation woulda given us flippers."

Ferals awoke to rush at them in crowds of groaning, flapping, decrepit desperation. They were quick but the two soldiers were quicker.

They soon reached the silo where Vin placed the pulse beacon and, being nearby, hit the platform lift call button. As the old mechanism lowered, it brought with it a dull, greenish light. Laser fire filled the air as the Glowing One leapt off and ran toward them. It lifted its arms, about to release the intense wave of re-animating radiation but was disarmed, quite literally, by Vin's focussed maneuvre. He ran up the concrete stairs to find the storage doorlock release.

MacCready watched as the red doors swung open to reveal rows upon rows of yellow-caged warheads. "There's enough bombs in this place to start another apocalypse."

"Yeah. Mission accomplished."

* * *

[*click*]

The actuator test on Liberty Prime was a success. In fact, Proctor Ingram gave me a medic pump for my Power Armor. I jokingly replied that I hadn't got her anything, to which she replied, "Yes you did, that big metal behemoth standing there." Is this banter we have going starting to border on flirtatious? Maybe a little, I'll admit, though… if it went any further I'd slam the brakes on hard. I mean, I like her, alot but… Nora. 

I'm still grieving Nora. Damn. Still can't think of her without tearing up. She was the love of my life. The mother of our child.

Our son. What he's become…  
No. **_Enough._**

[*click*]

Knight Hudson was ordered to report to Elder Maxson. He stoically received the news that the decrypted holodisk he had brought back from the Institute had revealed that Paladin Danse was, in truth, a synth bearing the designation M7-97.

Vin's mind was racing. He realised that the serial number was not a match for the one on the SRB terminal that listed Boston Airport as that synth's location. Still, Vincent was not about to give up entirely on the man he'd come to genuinely think of as brother.

_Vin's not taking this news well, despite the front he's putting on. I can tell. So, Danse might not know he's a synth? Probably not but who cares? He wants the so-called 'Elder' to let the thing have a chance to explain itself. C'mon, we've got the evidence. Dude's a **synth**. I can't say anything, not in front of the Sheepskin Ramrod here or any of the Brotherhood for that matter. He says he'll follow orders. I just hope he knows what he's doing._

_Haylen bursts in on us and Quinlan, who is trying to help us figure out where to start looking. She has a lead. 'A lead'. Greeeeaat, now I'm sounding like the great clockwork Dick._

_Haylen says that Vin has earned her admiration, her trust. He does that to people. I see her glance at me, catch maybe the slightest acknowledgement, like I'm not just an appendage or a piece of equipment anymore. I'm an Aspirant. Sounds like a headache pill but its better than 'Initiate'._

_She pleads with Vin to give the Pala…the synth.. a chance. Vin promises to hear him out. I knew all that 'yessir' business was just Vin looking for a way forward. I just tell him, "If you're wrong and he flips his switch, don't say I didn't warn you."_

_I couldn't bear to see him cry again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are your thoughts on how MacCready views synths?


	18. Holotape R - Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent saves one last synth before betraying those who stood between him and the destruction of the Institute. Has he also just betrayed himself?

MacCready picked at the last few beans at the bottom of the tin as Vin finished his Purified water. They had stopped for a brief meal break on the way to the bunker that Haylen had told them about.

"Don't tell me you were shocked when you found out Danse is a synth. That guy has about as much emotion as a bag of hammers," Mac muttered into the tin, scowling.

Vin suddenly wore a matching scowl. He didn't get how people could so suddenly turn against those they knew well when one was accused of being a synth but was more upset to hear this attitude coming from Mac. 

"Hey! Just 'cause someone keeps their feelin's close to their chest doesn't mean they're not human, dickwad."

That last insult slipped out by mistake. For a moment, he was the teenaged Vinnie, defending his cousin again.

"What did you just call me?"

"Sorry, um…old habit. Danse just reminds me of Vaughn, is all. People were often mean to him for being…emotionally reserved. Look, I know for sure that Vonnie was human. Uhhgh, that's not even the point, here, though. Just because Danse's body turns out to be synthetic doesn't automatically mean he's workin' for the Institute!" 

MacCready wore his 'unconvinced and disgruntled' expression.

"I mean, hey, for all I know, _you're_ a synth and Duncan doesn't even exist.."

Mac's eyes narrowed, his face stony.

"…but I trust my gut and I know you, Mac. Heck, even if you did turn out to be a synth, you'd still be my best friend."

This threw a spanner into MacCready's building rage and the cocktail of rebuttal he'd lit and been about to launch sputtered out.

"I know Danse, R.J., better than you do. He's opened up to me and allowed some of that guarded emotion to show through. He must be distraught right now."

(MacCready)  
_I want to be angry with him, for what he said about Duncan. I'm shi..sure scared of synths. Everybody is! Who hasn't heard of people being replaced? What I don't get is why Vin_ isn't _._

_Then again, that whole 'flip the switch thing'… there was this Gunner private once. He was nothin' special, followed orders, kept his head down. One day, he snaps, starts firin' on the officers. Got a final bulletwound for his trouble. They checked, no synth bauble. So… if a human can flip, maybe there are synths that won't. I hope for Vincent's sake that Danse doesn't do anything sudden but if he does, I'll be ready._

(Danse)  
_So, he found me. Of all people, I suspected he might be the one. I'm glad to see my friend even if he is here, undoubtedly, to end me. I'm relieved, in a way, that it isn't Leonard Rhys. That would have been…uncomfortably messy._

_The ex-Gunner is with him. Aspirant MacCready. It doesn't surprise me, those two are inseparable. I admire the man's loyalty. He clearly loves his Knight._

_Vincent said "No." He's willing to risk the serious consequences of disobeying a direct order from the Elder? Because he values our friendship… even though I'm a filthy, unnatural synthetic?_

_He asks me why I ran. My self-preservation instinct kicked in without my having much say in the matter. There's a loaded weapon nearby I plan to use. I just..can't. Yet._

_He tells me that I have shown human empathy. That I'm the proof that Maxson is wrong. That I am a Synth but everything I've done has been for the good of mankind._

_It's true. I can find no ulterior motives, no sinister thoughts within save the possibility of ending myself…but the longer Vincent talks, the more that option feels like fear and cowardice. That is not who I am. Maybe there _is_ another way, after all._

_Exile._

_I admit, I never have been able to read faces well but Knight Hudson's and Aspirant MacCready's are such a stark contrast right now. Vincent's is hopeful, relieved, perhaps but MacCready, well. He clearly did not like the outcome of our conversation. I can't blame him._

(MacCready)

_There it is again, that phrase. 'Best friend.' This time it's directed at **him** along with the unspoken statement 'Gen three synths are people, too'. I see it in his eyes and in the tilt of his head under that darn fine cowboy hat._

_We head to the lift, leaving Danse to pack his things. There's an unpleasant surprise waiting for us outside… Maxson. And he looks pissed. Don't know how he found us, unless someone overheard Haylen. It doesn't matter. Danse steps out the door and the Elder kicks off. Guy has anger issues._

_Somehow Vin, charmer that he is, manages to talk Maxson out of executing Danse. I have to admit kinda being on the ex-Paladin's side now, too. He looks small without his power armor, way bigger than me still but not as buff as my Vin. Er…my **best friend** Vin. _

_Maxson leaves, saying "Don't mistake my mercy for compassion." I'm imagining cartoon thunderclouds and lightning following him. No sir, God forbid anyone thinks you're **compassionate**. That's the problem with the Brotherhood right there. If Vin ever decides to quit, well, I'll follow his lead. I made a deal, right?_

[*click*]

It could be worse. I could be filling an actual dead man's shoes. One that I'd killed myself. When Mac and I reported back to the Prydwen, the comments started. I've never had 'congratulations' that made my skin crawl before. My jaw aches from all the clenching I did, biting back the rebellious responses.

The Elder made me a Paladin and MacCready a Knight. It felt like a dirty compliment. All I could say, though, was "I'm honoured." Mac just nodded. I was still a little rankled by Mac's earlier comments but his actions showed me that he was at least willing to follow my lead on this.

[*clack*]

Vin opened the door to his new private quarters. He gestured for MacCready to enter first and closed the door behind them.

"Weeell, looks like we know who was feeding the molerats, now," MacCready observed, gesturing to the blue plastic dogbowl with the cooked haunch of something in it. Vin chuckled in surprise and turned toward the bed.

Mac put a hand on his arm to halt him. "Vin, I just wanted to say…" the newly promoted Knight waited until he felt the gaze of those green eyes fully connect with his own blue ones. For a moment, everything else was completely out of focus. Mac felt his breath quicken, his palms inside the uniform gloves became clammy. He refocussed by shifting his weight slightly onto his left foot. "The way you stuck up for Danse, well that says alot about you." A sarcastic smirk crept onto his face. "It makes it easier to stick around when I know I won't end up getting stabbed in the back."

Vin didn't rise to the banter but remained deadly serious. "I'm no backstabber. I'm glad you came around, brother. I wonder if Maxson ever will?"

(Vin)  
_Brother. It doesn't feel like quite the right appellation to call Mac. Danse, yes. My once-mentor turned close friend. MacCready, though… I couldn't ask for a better professional partner. I can't quite figure out what we really are to each other outside the work, though. Friends seems… inadequate. Off the mark. Best friends, doesn't cut it. I can't see any options beyond that though I feel… something that's out of reach. I don't know what. 'Brother', a common enough term of comradeship in this organisation, anyway. It'll do._

_I take stock of what Danse left behind. One set of tattered rags is all that remains of his life before the Brotherhood. A few empty booze bottles tells that he was a private drinker off-duty. Ammo, tools, a manual of the Brotherhood codex with the Paladin section marked. I skim-read to see what kind of orders my new position affords me to give._

_A quick bite to eat and drink at the mess, a half hour to tinker with what used to be Danse's P.A. and is now mine, then down to the command deck to report to Lancer-Captain Kells for our new orders._

_My heart is in my boots. Kells has ordered me to lead a team to Railroad HQ, to 'plug any leaks'. To wipe them out._

_I was dreading this. I knew that the Brotherhood and Railroad would never see eye to eye. I thought I'd have time to try and talk Desdemona out of confrontation… but she's a fanatic, in her own way. Refusing to rescue humans like they rescue synths; insisting on memory wipes, personality implants. They may be the same synthetic bodies they rescue when they're relocated but they're not, ultimately, the same people. That's not what I'd call a rescue, in my book._

_No, I have less problem with the thought of taking out Des, more with the others. Doctors are in short enough supply but Doc Carrington is loyal to Desdemona and a stubborn old sourpatch. Tom's a genius but unstable. It's the ones who might have changed their tune that unsettle me. Deacon. He's a liar and I can't trust him but he might have seen sense. Then there's the 'postergirl'. If only the Brotherhood had been willing to see Gen threes for the victims they are… but Maxson has just put pay to that, otherwise I'd've tried to talk to Glory._

_The Railroad have just run out of track; the bufferstop is in sight._

_I've already lost my son to the Institute. I need to make sure he can't continue his insane crusade to 'redefine mankind'. The Brotherhood are the only ones with enough manpower and equipment to have a hope of physically breaking into the Institute...and we can't afford to have the Railroad mess that up._

_Damage control. That's what this is, what it has to be._

_I have my orders. I'm to try and reclaim P.A.M. or destroy it._

_Kells also has orders regarding Brian Virgil. I managed to convince him that Virgil is cured and not a threat. He'll be surveilled, though. I'll make sure he gets regular supplies._

_More damage control. Mac sensibly keeps a lid on it. We have a few hours before we move out in the early ones, before dawn. Time to bunk down._

(Mac)  
_Vin's not getting enough sleep. Neither am I, laying on this bunk, the one that used to be his. If the springs weren't bust before he landed his bulk on it, they sure are now._

__

__

_This metal cavern isn't exactly a comforting cave. I hate sleeping in pitch black but lights and stomping metal powered boots aren't helping either. A squire handed me these squishy little plugs for my ears but what if they get stuck in there? I don't wanna end up half-deaf like Vin!_

_I get up and find Brandis, tell him I'm going down to the old airport so I can sleep on the ground. He asks if there's another bed he can use and charges an Initiate with the task of telling Paladin Hudson where we are at midnight, before we have to move out._

_One unpleasant vertibird ride later and I touch blessed tarmac. Safe in the concrete bunkroom, I sleep, dreaming about Duncan and Lucy, who morphs into Vin as _he_ gives _me_ the little wooden soldier. At least, that's what I thought it was but the dream slips away as my watch alarm peeps shrilly in my ear._

_My Paladin is soon by my side and showing me into my new T-60. I'm a real-life freakin' Knight, Dunc! You proud of your dad now?_

_I'll see you soon, little bobble. I promise._

* * *

Paladin Hudson and his squad stomped right up to the Old North Church, shaking the loose paving stones and waking the contorted crows.  
One of the Knights shouldered the door open suddenly and the soldiers poured in. Paladin Hudson and Knight MacCready burst in to find that the Heavies had crawled out of the woodwork. The Brotherhood had been expected. That was no surprise to Vincent, intelligence was the Railroad's main weapon. 

Vin finished off a Railgun-toting heavy about to fire on an Aspirant, then spotted a flash of grubby white among the pews, a dark-haired head ducking back. Vin didn't need to order MacCready to cover him - that was a given. He ignored the heavies swarming out of the crypt doorway and took aim. Done. He stooped over the body just long enough to grab the medical supplies that he knew he'd find in the coat, willing himself to keep his gaze away from the familiar face.

Vin turned swiftly, making his way directly to the passageway leading to the ancient tunnels. Brotherhood soldiers fought Railroad Heavies but Paladin Hudson only paused to fire when it was unavoidable. The codified door was sealed but a Knight had placed an explosive charge on it. If he had had room for any thoughts other than carrying out his orders, Vin might have wondered if they had changed the locks or if they knew he, Bullseye, was coming for them but he was so battle-focussed that no extraneous musings stood a chance. It was just as well or he might not have been able to what needed, unfortunately, to be done. 

The wall exploded, lending a strange sort of weather to the musty tunnel: hot wind and aggregate raining from the ceiling. It tinkled over Vincent's armour briefly, the sound echoed by railgunfire in the chamber beyond. Vin passed like a storm, Righteous Authority shooting red lightning to strike down any in his way. He was determined to get to the brown wooden door first, ignoring the Railroad's ricocheting revenge, leaving the rest of his squad to deal with the ones he'd rushed past. He reached the door before any more railroad spikes could even attempt to lodge themselves in his carapace. Panicked footsteps on the stone stairs, a beat, Drummer Boy's last. Vin withdrew a plasma grenade, his PIP-boy telling his suit that most life signs were around the corner to the right. He stepped (another beat), threw (and another) stepped back (thud, thud, thud in his chest). Green light and a sickening sizzle. Gunfire from the left. Desdemona (thundering beats), VATS peeped its readiness, the sound drilling into his temples. Laserfire, the dull thump of a body on the floor. Quiet, except for the taiko-drum thunder of his heart in his ears.

"All clear!" It was his voice, his soldier's voice, automatically doing its duty. He entered the room. They were all down, except…someone was missing. He dealt with P.A.M., picked up medical aid, a few tools, nothing more. No time.

MacCready trailed Vincent all the way back out to the church like a shadow, silent and serious. They turned left toward the entrance hall, the sounds of muffled orders and debris falling from the broken balconies covering the quiet clicking of the front door. One last Railroad agent. One last discharge of his fusion cell. One last soft thump on the creaking old floorboards.

_One last murder._

His inner voice, held hostage to duty, struggled free. Could he call it _that_ when it was war? 

_"…unfortunate collateral damage." echoed Father's voice in his head._

It had been too easy, from a combat point of view. A standard sweep and clear. Minimal casualties, objective completed. There would be a follow up security and acquisition detail after the dust had settled but the Paladin and his Knight would not be part of it. 

Vin reached up and released his helmet clamp. Mac followed suit. He looked into his companion's eyes: normally a clear green they were now as dark and murky as a radstorm. Vincent was silent as he knocked the sunglasses from the cooling face. 

The action revealed less than he had assumed it would. From a personal perspective, it had been the hardest battle Vincent 'Nate' Hudson had ever fought. Especially taking down Glory and… Deacon. He wordlessly dropped a beer next to him. A gift for the afterlife. Or whichever scavver that picked up the shades. 

Vin shoved his helmet back on forcefully and half strode, half jogged out of the old church. MacCready knew better than to get in the way of that particular radstorm-personified and so took shelter in its wake. 

[*click*]  
‘Personal record…ah whatever the damn date is…..  
The Railroad is gone. There was no middle way. I had to choose the Brotherhood so that we can take down the Institute. My own son, taking point on humanity losing itself.  
I’m never going to sleep easy again. If only Desdemona hadn’t forced me to choose sides. There was another way. I would have helped them to turn the Brotherhood into something that helped the good citizens of the Commonwealth, biological or synthetic. At least I got Danse out alive.  
If there’s a way to get Maxson to see…I doubt it, though. I’m a Paladin now. A bitter victory, to say the least but perhaps I might have a better chance to open some minds. If I can’t include the synths - and the ones who still think they’re human - in the ideal of protecting the innocent then what’s the point?  
This world…scarred and tired, just like me. I’m still fighting for it but I’m hanging on by a thread. Don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.’ [*click*] 

They arrived back at Boston Airport, having made good time on foot. With a cloud of Brotherhood soldiers streaming behind and around their newest Paladin, no Supermutants, Raiders or Gunners dared stick their noses out. 

Only Vin and Mac entered the old ruined airport lounge section, where now stood a large, concrete hall still containing the spent Signal Interceptor. The smell of ozone and burned plastic lingered. 

The two men synchronistically stood at their yellow power armour frames. Their armour blossomed, releasing their exhausted, sweating passengers. 

Mac loped over to the old check-in desk and retrieved a couple of towels. He threw one to Vin and wiped his own face, feeling the uncomfortable prickle of conscience rising like bile. It was no good. He had to say something. He padded up to where Vin was standing, stock-still and still rumbling with inaudible thunder. This close, Mac could practically feel the vibrations. 

When he spoke, it was softly but firmly. "I know you were just following orders but did you have to kill all those people just because Maxson said so?" 

The storm swirled. The stormy green eyes that met the rain-dampened clear skies of MacCready's flicked slightly left and right whilst words fought to rise in Vincent's throat. When they came, they hit as hard as hailstones. 

"We had our orders. We carried them out. They would have jeopardized the main mission. When Liberty Prime is go, so are we." 

To MacCready's ears, this sounded like so much recycled rhetoric, robotic and soulless. 

"Vin, it's me you're talking to. Try that answer again, Hudson." 

Mac never used his surname. It startled him back to himself just enough for Vin to croak, "I was too late…had no choice." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a difficult chapter to write. Even though I've played the Blind Betrayal and Tactical Thinking quests at least twice before, it still hits hard, emotionally. If you choose the BoS to take down the Institute, you are forced to become enemies of the Railroad.  
> I have played the 'peaceful' ending (where the Minutemen destroy the Institute, leaving the other factions in tact) but Vin made a clear decision to use military might and he suffers the consequences of his actions.
> 
> It still hurt to relive it as I wrote it. There will be comfort to balance that out but, sorry to say, the main deed needs to be done and Vincent has a rough path ahead.
> 
> He won't be alone.
> 
> The holotape text towards the end of the chapter is actually the entire Chapter 2 of Vincent, Redefined. The Prequel interlocks with the full series now.  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/8280622/chapters/18969649#workskin


	19. Holotape S - Imploding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it, endgame. All Liberty Prime needs is a 'Berylli-hooga-whatever' to make him go. Vin and Mac each realise privately just how much they need each other, especially when they finally break into the Institute. Ad Victoriam... but at what cost?

(Ingram)  
 _If I have to tell that scribe one more time to refill those oilcans, he's going to get molerat on a stick every day for a week, I sw.. oh, there's my man._

"Paladin Hudson! Got a sec, sir?"

"Ingram. Can I help?" Vin's face was drawn, his tone muted. MacCready knew that Vin was doing his best to maintain an air of professionalism but he knew the guy well enough to spot the cracks. So, apparently, did Proctor Ingram.

She stomped a little closer and lowered her volume. "You look like you've been through the wringer, soldier. I, uh, I heard about Danse."

"I'd prefer not to talk about it," Vin replied curtly.

"I hear ya. Well I have something to take your mind off it but I'm not sure I should send you on another mission just yet."

"He's not sleeping well," MacCready jumped in. Vin looked mildly betrayed at the comment, Ingram simply nodded.

(MacCready)  
 _Well that could be taken the wrong way. Jeez, I hope Ingram doesn't think I'm **sleeping** with the big guy now. I'm just a Knight looking out for his Paladin. Not that I don't _want _to sleep with him, it's just… fuck. Better derail that train of thought before it gets me into trouble. It's never gonna happen, **Robert** so pack it in._

_Ingram has to say my name twice. She strongly recommends that Vin gets some sleeping meds from Cade. He takes that as an order. She tells us both to report back to her after we've gotten a solid eight hours. Eight? On this floating bucket? I better get some, too. It's **med** dy-byes time._

* * *  
Vincent awoke in his new quarters. The bed still smelled of Danse. Not unpleasant but not a comfortable reminder of the Elder's confrontation right now, especially since he had to follow orders from the man. A Squire knocked on the door, delivering clean clothes and collecting Vin's dirtied ones. It felt like room service, reminding Vin briefly of his honeymoon. That comfortable memory sat awkwardly in the framework of his present. The bed, a stained and faded mattress with no sheets, the floor cold metal underneath hard, old rubber matting, the creaks and clanks and barely filtered conversation travelling quickly through the metal walls into his one good ear.

He wiped a damp cloth over his face and the necessary areas, dressed and equipped himself. There came another knock at the door. Vin opened it to see MacCready, looking very refreshed and smirking as he did the Brotherhood salute. _Come on, MacCready, take it seriously,_ Vin hoped his expression conveyed.

He brought up the mission outline that Ingram had just sent on his PIP-boy to brief his Knight. The former mercenary read it quickly, shrugged and looked up.

"I don't care what the Berylli-hooga-whatever is for. If you get to take down some synths in the process, then it sounds like its worth going after."

"You're missing the damn point, MacCready." Vin shook is head with a heavy exhalation. Mac may well be the best shot in the Commonwealth but he had a lot to learn about being part of a disciplined fighting force. Vin's inner Staff Sergeant rose to the surface. "The iron giant out there won't be stomping anywhere without it. With him, we get to take down **all** the insentient synths. This is our mission now, not some mercenary retrieval job, got that, soldier?"

(MacCready)  
 _Soldier. There's that word again. I hadn't realised it would weigh as much to carry as it does. I can see Vin's disappointed in my attitude. I don't miss the little word he slipped in there, either. 'Insentient' … like, not sentient. I'm not ignorant, y'know. He means the first and second generation synths, not the human looking ones like… Danse. I don't think Maxson will be so particular. Well, Vin has to follow his orders just like I have to follow my Boss's. My Paladin's. My…woah there, don't get personal,_ soldier _. I ball my right hand into a fist and slam it to my chest._

"Sir, yessir!"

They soon joined Proctor Ingram on the Flight Deck at Docking Strut D. She hoisted her rig up. "I never could get used to flying in these things."

"Me, neither," agreed MacCready. "I don't mind heights, just not keen on what I'm standing on _moving_ so much."

Vincent grinned. "I'm gonna have to take pilot lessons and get my Lancer license or whatever equivalent you have these days. I went up in a plane, once, ya know? Buddy o' mine let me fly her for a bit." Mac looked queasy as the larger man slapped him on the power-armoured arm with his metal gauntlet. The 'clank' made Mac jump. Vin's pitch raised a little,"It was fun!"

Vin - or rather, Paladin Hudson - positioned himself at the minigun. Knight MacCready strapped in tight, as did Proctor Ingram.

The blades started whirring up as Ingram shouted over the top and nearby vertibirds also filled with troops. "Remember, we're looking for the Beryllium Agitator. It's a grab-it-and-go mission, folks. We're expecting resistance, both pre-war in-house security and Institute interference. If our intel is correct, they need this component as badly as we do."

Vin's eyes scanned the landscape slipping fluidly by below them. From up here, you could almost see the city as it was - until you looked at the collapsed skyways and spotted the makeshift barriers across bridges and roads.

The 'bird soon hovered over the immensely tall Mass Fusion building. Blue laser fire stabbed out to greet them: Gen Two Synths. Vin sprayed the rooftop ambush with minigun fire, silently cursing how slow and heavy the mounted gun was to aim. Mac's airborne aim was just as sound as on the ground, though. They made several passes around the building before enough Tangos had been taken down to drop the soldiers off. Vin jumped down, unholstering Righteous Authority as he did so and mopping up the stragglers.

He poked around the penthouse office until he found the elevator key and they all crowded onto the circular platform. The lift descended. As it moved downward, sudden blue, sizzling flashes became visible on the floors that they passed. The relaying synths left little white dots in their vision. One caught Mac right in the eye through his scope so he had to switch sides for a few moments where, he would never admit, his aim was not _quite_ as good.

Suddenly, the platform shook and graunched to a halt. "They've knocked out power to the elevator!" shouted Ingram as she blasted a few synthetic skulls.

MacCready groaned, "If I have to walk down more'n a few flights of stairs, I'm gonna be pissed." A blue beam glanced off Vin's shoulder plate a little close to MacCready's helm-less head. Vin had tried to persuade him to keep it on but the sniper argued that it got in his way and unless there was radiation or toxic fumes, he'd rather be without.

They leaped out of the arrested elevator into the lobby. The three of them had their work cut out dealing with the magically materialising machine army and by the time the blue fire had died, Ingram and MacCready were nowhere to be seen. Vin called into his helmet radio but realised that neither Mac nor Ingram were wearing theirs.

"Oh, that's just freakin' ass-tomic!" mumbled a disgruntled Vin. He did a quick sweep and was hugely relieved not to find their bodies among the fallen synthetic ones in the open lobby, so he pressed on, looking for the power console. Thankfully, it was a quick fix when Ingram and Mac reappeared from some side room with just the voltage of fuse that he needed.

The elevator sputtered to life again. There were a few more 'T is for Target' Tangos but soon they arrived in the basement. Vin saw the intact terminal at the Reactor Attendant's station and soon hacked his way in. Valentine had taught him a few tricks that always came in handy.

The screen bleeped brightly and bared forth its secrets. "Hey Mac, look at this! The guys here must have had too much free time. Someone was playing a Magic & Melee campaign! Huh!" 

Mac hadn't actually heard of that and was intrigued. He was about to enquire further when Ingram reminded him with a glance that he should be checking the next room. 

Vincent was checking the logs. He read the word 'assaultrons', looked up in front of him and felt a warning shiver down his arms, the fine reddy-golden hairs rising unseen inside his T-60.

"Those security doors look like a threat. Heads-up, Plasma mines goin' down." He placed one in front of each of the two doors and in the main reactor control chamber, spotted a single, wider door. _Bet my last cent it's a Sentrybot_ he thought to himself as he placed one - no, two, just to be sure - plasma mines down in front of it.

More terminals, more game entries. Vin would have enjoyed reading them if he had not been on what was probably the most serious mission of his life. He briefly wished that he could have shared these with MacCready. As it was, he had to go into the reactor room and retrieve the agitator. He checked his suit seals, ingested a Rad-X via the suit's chem delivery system, signalled to Ingram that he was ready and stepped into the airlock.

(MacCready)  
 _Ingram must be able to see the worry on my face as Vin steps into the sealed room with the arches because she puts her hands on my shoulders, turns me to face her and tells me that 'our guy' will be just fine. Something about that phrase throws me, enough to shrug off the frown and focus on defending the doorway. I can't see him from this position, probably for the best._

_Suddenly, there's blaring noise, Ingram shouting that he's got it, turrets waking up - I had hoped Vin had disabled **all** of those like he usually does - and those security doors opening. Vincent is stuck in the irradiation chamber, I can hear the automated airlock alert counting down. Outside in the corridor, two plasma grenades go off and a damaged assaultron gives me a target for my frustrations. Another lies in pieces behind it already. Good call, Vin._

_He steps out, just in time to see the double-glare of two mines go off underneath the emergent sentry bot, raises his shotgun and sends it off to junkyard oblivion. I turn to see a Protectron I hadn't realised was there; I thought Vin checked that room, how did he miss that? We take it down. Ingram has dealt with the last turret and we move out, as one, to the exit elevator. Vin puts an arm around my shoulders and gives me that glorious grin of his. If I weren't held up by a metal exoskeleton, my knees might have failed me just then._

* * *  
"Well, there's no going back now. I only hope Liberty Prime finds the way into the Institute or this is going to be a short war." MacCready's face had fallen upon seeing the robot behemoth fully powered up and on the move. He started toward the armour stand where his recently patched suit waited.

"No, no power armor for us this time, bud. I want us to be fast and maneuverable." _Mac looks defeated before we've begun. That won't do. I need him to be on top form. I need him._

Vin noticed that he had put one hand on Mac's shoulder without realising it. He brought the other one up to mirror the first. 

"When we get in - and our big friend there will make sure we do - I have special orders for you, just between us, understood?"

"Yessir."

"If it looks human, don't shoot it unless its a Courser, ya hear me?"

"Loud and clear, **Paladin**."

(MacCready)  
 _Vincent pays a visit to Proctor Teagan and purchases a heavy gatling laser. It's impressive, though I don't have the muscles to heft a beast like that outside of my power armor like he does. Damn these tight-fitting uniforms, I'm sure that Initiate caught me staring._

_He tinkers with it a bit, gives my weaponry the once over and makes a small improvement to the laser rifle that Brandis gave to me, the one he called the 'Survivor's Special'. He gave it to me, not Vin. That meant alot. Almost feel like I've got a Dad… stupid, R.J. How would you even know what **that** feels like? Still. Brandis is alright._

_We are geared up and dogging the steel giant's footsteps just moments later. Our path takes us through supermutants and raiders. An actual Behemoth tries to tangle with the towering terror but is reduced to a pile of ash at its deadly glance. It throws nuke shells as if they were footballs. Scumbags scuttle away like radroaches. I must admit, this is like living a comic book story! Okay, I'll admit it. It's kinda cool._

_Bunker Hill gives us some trouble. Some remaining Railroad agents are taking potshots with their gauss rifles. Vin's aim is better, though I know he's eyeing up those rifles. We don't get close enough for him to grab one as Liberty Prime gets a bit confused for a moment like his navigation is glitching but we change route, travel fast and are at the ruins of the old Cambridge Institute of Technology in no time. The towering, out-of-date patriotic-babble-spewing monstrosity is punching through soil and rock and metal whilst we and our Brothers in arms, led by Maxson himself, meet blue flashes with red ones until no more synths relay into the fray._

_Vin barks orders at me. I obey even as the full realisation of what we're about to do hits me._

_Did the bile in my throat taint my replies with bitterness? What am I doing, really, throwing my lot in with the Brotherhood? If I go down that hole with Vincent, I might never see Duncan again.… but if I run to Duncan now, I might lose Vin. I can't lose Vin. I swallow the bile back down and straighten my back, square my shoulders, set my jaw at that cocky angle that brings out a dangerous and yet magnetic little half-smirk from his handsome face. I'd follow that man anywhere and it looks like I'm about to. Right up C.I.T.'s new butthole._

* * *  
(Vincent)  
 _I'm relieved to see Paladin Brandis at the fore with us, by Maxson's side. MacCready looks relieved when he realises that it is Brandis in that suit. Personally, I'm very glad that Cade signed him fit for duty, having seen him in training. I can spot an experienced soldier a mile away._

_We enter through very old service tunnels. Maxson voices his dissappointment, mistakenly believing this to be the Institute proper._

_I spot a terminal and get through. Amongst old data I find the turret shutdown sequence and use it. I also  
activate an unpredictable sentry bot just sitting in the room beyond. It takes out most resistance in the old robotics lab. Using the enemy's force against them is something I'd learned from the Chinese fighting style. _

_We enter the lab, I grab a few choice components as I go. Mac spares me a brief scowl - the one that says "just leave it!" but we may not get the chance to return here._

_An aperture in the floor is our way in. We drop down, one by one. Myself, MacCready, Maxson, Brandis and Ingram. Our mission is to get to the reactor and place a Fusion Pulse Charge on it, to be detonated remotely._

_I'm prepared to die to see this done. Father is not my baby boy Shaun, no. The Institute stole him… even from himself, the person he should have been. He's done so much harm. **I'm responsible for that.** Time to rebalance the scales._

(MacCready)  
 _You can't tell who anyone is under those helmets, only the rank on their vambraces but when a Paladin strides up to me and says my name, his helmet speaker audible because I'm standing nearby, I'm relieved to recognise the voice. Philip Alan Brandis. Not many know his full name (and he dislikes his given names as much as I do mine) but we've become friends. Heck, in truth the guy is as near to a father figure as I'm ever gonna get. He's taught me a lot about the Brotherhood whilst Vin was busy helping to build our giant gatecrasher. I know the guy has got our backs._

_We jump down into old tunnels. Now this, I can handle. The Elder who is two years younger than me grumbles something about being unimpressed. I supress a snicker. Vin's told me what the Institute looks like on the inside and this ain't it yet. Dumbass. I know he's a tough guy and related to the man who started the Brotherhood and I know he's the big boss and all. Nobody said I had to like him, though. Stupid, surly bastard._

_Vin does his keyboard tapdancing trick and gets us past the turrets and even persuades the sentrybot to fight with us. We clear out a few synths as we head downstairs and jump through a hole in the floor. It's playtime._

The older sections give way to smooth floors, featureless walls and aggressive cleanliness. A door slides open almost silently to reveal an empty room filled with planter tables nurturing greenery. Bioscience.

Maxson takes in the partially obscured view through the windows momentarily, seeing synths go about their business in a clean laboratory setting. "Now this…This is what I had feared. No controls, no supervision, technology run amok."

Paladin Hudson brandishes his gatling laser but his aim is very specific, as is MacCready's. First and Second Generation Synths and Coursers only. The scientists are on their knees, terrified. Brandis only shoots humans if they shoot him. Maxson doesn't seem to be quite so picky. Ingram holds back, waiting for her route to be clear.

A second Brotherhood squad catches up and joins the fray. They break through into the central foyer just as alarms sound and metal shutters block off the concourse.

Lockdown.

The rest of the troops are behind the sealed Bioscience doors, now. Brandis orders them to return to the surface. They can't help in here now but perhaps they can mop up any teleporting escapees.

"We need to find a way through to Advanced Systems, Hudson!" Ingram shouts above the sustained laser fire. Advanced Gen Two synths in heavy armour tangle with Knights charging in to protect their Elder. Coursers with stealth fields shimmering like the tranquil, flowing water between the potted trees, a jarring contrast to the roaring conflict. 

_The Director's personal terminal,_ Vin realises.

Paladin Hudson focusses his fire on the Courser and runs to the central elevator, MacCready as ever, close by his side. 

(MacCready)  
 _This place is so bright...too bright. I watch the high ceiling, peppered with too-regular artificial stars that shine despite the harsh, simulated daylight, rise away as we fall._

_I can feel Vin next to me, tense, working hard to keep his breathing steady, vibrating a little from the effort and the adrenaline. He's silent as a stone, his attention on the task ahead honed to a sharp point._

_Me, I'm nervous, too. This isn't the kind of subterranean territory I'm used to at_ all. _The lift is confining, the air smells of…well, it doesn't really have a smell and like odourless radiation, feels just as ominous._

_We emerge to go through a short corridor and into an even smaller elevator. Vin is touching me, I can feel his body thrumming, smell his sweat. It teases out confusing, urgent feelings that I push aside just as the door opens._

(Vincent)  
 _I know the route. I went this way before, when I found…the boy. The synth. Father. Oh MacCready, my shadow, you don't know how glad I am you're here with me but I can't even speak. I'm biting the inside of my mouth before I realise it, tasting blood._

_The elevator stops. I retrace those steps through the short corridor, enter the smaller elevator that goes to the Director's quarters. Mac presses up against my side, I feel his warmth through our uniforms. He anchors me. I take a deep breath, his scent reassuring me against the sterile atmosphere._

_The door opens. There's the little cell, empty now. I say nothing but a voice rages in my head:_

_**Where. Is. My. Son?** _

(MacCready)  
 _We go into the bright, painfully clean room. Vincent is looking around, searching. We head to the right, ascend a staircase and…_

_The old man is looking rough, laying in what looks like some kinda sci-fi hospital bed._

_I stand back as Vincent moves towards his Shaun. He tells Vin that he's dying. He's a bitter old man, he says that Vincent has ruined Mankind's future._

_Stupid old.. I reach for a word worse than 'mungo' and find nothing. I can't believe he'd treat his own fucking father like this. Vin stands his moral ground and argues for reducing casualties. Shaun gives him the evacuation code and tells him that he can shut down most of the synths. At least the old codger isn't one hundred percent evil scientist. Ninety-nine, maybe._

_Vin strides over to the console. I don't mean to but I lock eyes with the old man. I recognise him but he only saw my power armor helmet when we encountered him on the roof of C.I.T. I can't say I see too much of a family resemblance, except for the nose, maybe. I remember that Vin said he looked more like his nasty uncle. My hackles are raised. He's looking me up and down with… disdain. Yeah, that's the word._

_Vin finishes tapping keys and an evacuation order blares out. Then he speaks to me in a deep, quiet voice and gives me anorder that makes me feel heavy._

"Wait outside."

Vin could hear the doors releasing, hear the soldier's whoops as the majority of the androids lost all motor function. Were they aware, whilst they froze, slumped, on their feet?

Vincent faced his son, his expression one of sad renunciation.

"The moment the Institute took you, I lost you, Shaun."

Father's jaw trembled and clenched tight shut. Vin continued:

"You might have been a very different man…if you'd only been loved. You're a victim that they turned into a perpetrator but… you couldn't know any better, held prisoner to their ideals." Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose against the threat of a migraine. Damn all these bright, flashing lights. "I told you I was dissappointed in you," he continued in a soft voice, "… in the choices you've made but I never stopped loving you, son."

Shaun's lined face was etched with surprise and confusion. For all his intelligence, he couldn't quite understand this language of the heart.

"My love for your mother brought you into this world and now," Vin's voice beytayed him and cracked slightly, "because I love you, Shaun, I'm taking you out of it."

From behind his back, Vincent 'Nate' Hudson pulled the very weapon that had ended his wife, Nora. Shaun's watery eyes widened in recognition.

"Is that… Kellogg's pistol?" asked the Director of the Institute.

Vin nodded, tears welling in his eyes. "It's the only way I can rescue you, son."

Father gave the tiniest nod of acknowledgement. 

"Goodbye, _'Father',"_  
"Goodbye, Father," echoed Shaun.

MacCready heard the single shot. When Vin emerged, he couldn't see behind the patrolman sunglasses that Vin suddenly wore but his companion's right hand was shaking and he stumbled a little on the stair. Mac caught his arm, throwing him a quizzical look.

Vin took a deep breath, pushing his accumulated trauma down as deep as it would go, drew himself up to his full height, readied 'Furious Justice' his gatling laser and ordered, "Move out."

* * *  
(MacCready)  
 _I know what he just did. The old man was dying anyway, right? It was the kind thing to do… oh god. If that had been my Duncan, I… that's one shot I couldn't have made. Vin isn't meeting my gaze. I don't blame him._

_We head all the way down to the reactor, through resistance of course. The pawns may be sleeping but the end of level bad guys are lining up. Heavily armored Gen Twos and Coursers. They're firing all their big guns at us but it won't be enough._

_Our guns are bigger **and** better._

_Paladin Brandis takes vanguard. Vin watches his back, I watch Vin's. We clear the reactor room quickly and Vincent charms yet another terminal. We're popping Rad-X like candy until Vin convinces the system to lower the rad levels and turn the reactor off. Maxson hands him the charge. He opens the door… I hope that geiger thingy is working, I don't want him to start glowing or something. He reappears, minus the charge and we retreat to the stairwell where Maxson radios an order to Ingram to relay us out._

_Searing noise. Flashing, white-blue light. I'm nowhere… I'm… somewhere else._

_I throw up in my mouth a little and swallow it. Ugh, now I have puke-breath. I hated that relay but we're gonna have to do it one more time since we're in the relay room, not up top._

_There's a hitch. A kid sized hitch. Is that the same synth kid that was with Kellogg? One glance at Vin's face tells me it is. They both have the same coloured hair, that nose… sh... yeah, shit. It is him. Synth Shaun… and he's calling Vin his Dad. I can see Vincent is confused. The kid thinks he didn't recognise him._

__"Vin, we need to go, now!" __

_He tells the kid yes, he's his Dad. Ingram promises to get him out, get him some new clothes. We step into that relay room. It looks like a spider in a fisheye lense, all those eyes lookin' at us. Then suddenly that light, different floor under my feet. I turn away and toss all my cookies. The wind carries most of it away over the side of the Mass Fusion building that we are perched on top of. I don't catch anything Maxson is saying except that he's letting his Paladin Hudson press the big red button. Get ready to go BOOM!, boogeyman._

(Vincent)  
 _Stepping up to the detonator, I hear the echo of Kellogg's gun in my head for the second time. I flip the safety cover up and remember lifting the knife switch to release Nora's lifeless form. I put my fingers on the detonation button and feel a familiar hand on my shoulder, lending me his strength. I let the weight of everything that has happened depress that button._

_The Commonwealth holds its breath for a second._

_I can feel it all wash over me. The heat. The force. The radiation...the fear. It's the end of the world - all over again._

_I close my eyes, I see my life before all of this. Before the bombs. Everything can change in an instant, and the future you plan for yourself shifts - whether or not you're ready. At some point, it happens to all of us._

_This, wasn't the world I wanted; but it was the one I found myself in. The Commonwealth, my home. Ripped apart, and put back together._

_I thought I...I hoped I could find my family. Cheat time. Make us whole again. The way we were._

_But now, I know. I know I can't go back. I know the world has changed. The road ahead will be hard. This time, I'm ready. Because I know, war...war never changes._

* * *  
(MacCready)  
 _We fly directly to the Prydwen. I have just enough time to run to the head and involuntarily make sure that my stomach has nothing left. I use about four days' worth of toothpaste trying to lose the stink. A squire fetches me to rejoin my Paladin. Duty calls._

_Vincent is present but he's not really here. Maxson's singing his praises, Kells is harmonising, y'know, not literally. That'd be the day. They'd just need two more for a Brotherhood Quartet._

_Great. Now I'm babbling. To myself, in my head. We just blew up the freakin' Institute. I'd be jumping for joy if I didn't know what that just cost Vin._

_Kells hands him a jetpack. Maxson gives him a promotion. Sentinel, eh? Watch out, Arthur, he'll be going for your job next. I'm so glad I didn't just say that out loud._

_Maxson tells me I get a promotion, too: Knight Sergeant; though he still wants me at Vin's side. So do I. I'd walk the earth with him until…_

_Everyone salutes. I just about keep up. I see Vin to his quarters. He stops me at the door and tells me to go fetch alcohol, anything, from the galley. I run along, grab a couple of beers. It's crowded, everyone's in high spirits. Brandis pushes a bottle of Bourbon at me and I remember that Vin stopped drinking that stuff when he returned from the Institute the first time. I politely decline mumbling something about it not agreeing with the Sentinel and he offers a bottle of Bobrov's instead. Yeah. That should do the trick._

_I return, having been given two more beers and a regular old whiskey along the way. I'll be damned if I'm letting Vin drink alone tonight. They all think we're celebrating._

_No, it's gonna be more like a wake._

* * *  
[*click*] Shaun is gone. I brought him into this world and two hundred years later I…. I took him out of it. The Institute is gone. Hole in the ground nuked by *fxzzz*ing robot gone.  
He was sick. Dying. Old, bitter and angry with nothing to say to me. My hand is still shaking, don’t think it’ll ever stop, no matter how much booze I pour down my neck. But not Bourbon. He liked Bourbon, same as me. Never touching the stuff again.  
So I’m back in the military, taking orders. It seems easier, for now. Sentinel Hudson…has a kind of hollow ring to it.  
The kid. Is it…is he a kid, really? The DNA matches mine but it isn’t real. Somewhere inside him is a gadget, a synth component. Will he grow? What if he doesn’t? Could I be the dad Shaun never had? No. No not now. Not like this. Not without you, Nora. I told it I’m his dad just to save the synths’s life. Not his fault he was created but what’m I gonna do with a kid on the Prydwen?  
Oh, my head. Where’s the damn off switch? [*click*]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Holotape snuck in at the end is actually Chapter 3, Vincent, Redefined part 1, so the prequel and the main series are now firmly woven together. 
> 
> There is still much that remains untold, however, still seven more 'Holotapes' to go so although this is the Endgame (and yes, those are the Outro lines from the game itself, with a little personal prefix from Vin) it is far from the end.
> 
> If you are enjoying my work please leave a comment, however brief or gloriously detailed. I also have a Ko-Fi here: 
> 
> https://ko-fi.com/theartofblossoming 
> 
> which goes toward commissioning fellow fanart/fic creators, art materials and keeping me in teabags or instant cappucinos. Many thanks for your support!


	20. Holotape T - Independence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst the crew of the Prydwen celebrate the Institute's defeat, Vin has some complex feelings to bottle up. Literally.
> 
> There's no time to wallow, however. The Sentinel-General makes good use of the independence his new rank affords. Garvey's going to love this.

MacCready turned and shut the metal door behind him, the sound masking the clatter of the empty Med-X syringe that Vin quickly threw behind the green footlocker, out of sight behind the metal strut of the wall behind.

"Mission accomplished, Sir!"

"At ease, soldier. Let's just drop the fuckin' formalities, Mac. What did you find?" Vin had stripped off his armour and shrugged off the top of his orange Brotherhood uniform and not even bothered to tie the arms about his waist, sitting there in his sweat-stained vest. Mac could see the hint of a sepia-coloured tattoo on his right arm, under Vin's currently scratching hand and felt his curiosity pique.

He plonked down his armful of bottles onto the greyish, olive-green metal chest of drawers, the clink of glass and clang of steel making Vin wince. The Med-X was still working on chasing away the monstrous migraine that had been brewing, putting zigzagging lights in his vision and threatening to hamper his speech.

_He doesn't look so good. Those black circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders are slumping._

"I found alcohol, as ordered, sir, uh.. Vin. But…"

"What's the matter, Mac? Is the beer warm?"

"Usually is, yeah, that's not it though. I just thought you looked like you could use some sleep instead, is all."

" **Can't** sleep right now," Vin snapped. "Just pass me a beer, R.J."

_Oh it's 'R.J.' is it, now? Way to make me feel like someone you just met, Vincent. I swear I told him I preferred 'Mac'. Fine. I'm too tired to argue. Beer it is._

"Here," Mac replied bluntly. He looked around for a place to sit. The drawer unit was covered in ammo boxes, armour pieces and now assorted bottles of alcohol. The desk had no chair. _What happened, Danse smash?_ The only place to sit up off the floor was on the bed. Next to Vin. He'd better make sure not to plonk himself down on Vin's deaf side, which meant having to move the pillow. It also meant missing out on a chance to examine that tattoo more closely. Dammit.

After an awkward few minutes of silent swigging, Vin swivelled around, lifting his left leg to rest bent on the mattress, brushing MacCready's own. He dropped a warm, heavy hand in a series of hesitant pats until leaving it to rest on Mac's right thigh.

"I couldn't've got through that without you, buddy," he mumbled. Mac had heard him loud and clear, though, his senses kicked into high sensitivity by the unexpected contact.

"I..of course I'm here for you, Vin. I couldn't imagine having to…"

"Don't say it."

Mac looked to the floor with a little nod.  
_Pretty sure there's a word for what Vin just did to.. for.. his son. All I can think of is 'youth amnesia' but that ain't it. Dammit, there's nothing I **could** say even if I had the gift of the gab._

He reluctantly got out from under Vin's hand to grab two bottles, the Bobrov's Best and the Whiskey, jiggling each forward in turn. Vin scowled and pawed the whiskey away, reaching for the stronger moonshine. Mac looked around to find glasses. All he could lay his hands on was one ceramic mug. After he'd poured a generous shot, Vin lunged forward (knocking his empty beer bottle to the floor) and grabbed the Bobrov's bottle, putting it to his lips before Mac could protest. He shrugged and took the mug.

"Hey, play a game with me Vin," Mac said, fishing a cap from one of the many pouches on his Brotherhood fatigues. Maybe he could at least get Vin to pace himself.

"Not in the mood."

"Humor me, you big galoot. It's called 'Slap the Cap'. Here." He put an upside down TV Dinner tray on the bed between them and the cap on top. "We take it in turns, slap it or pick it up. If the other person has the cap already, you have to slap your hand down flat. If its a fist, you lose and have to drink. If you have the cap, you have to put it down next go. If you grab for the cap and miss…"

"Take a drink. I know."

"Ok, one rule: you're not allowed to fake screwing up. Three misses in a row and you're out, winner keeps the cap. Got it?"

"Sure. Fine. Let's slap that cap, then."

The two men played, each neck and neck for a while. Mac ran out of moonshine and Vin topped up his cup, his aim a little wobbly. He soon started losing to MacCready and before they knew it, they had bested the Bobrov's and ran out of beer. Vin slapped his hand down so hard, missed the cap entirely but hit the edge of the tray, catapulting the crinkled disk into the corner of the room.

"I wiiiin! Vin yer so drunk, man. Where'd'you send my cap flyin' offph to?"

Whilst Mac scrabbled over the bed to search, Vin grabbed the whiskey.

'"Found i… what's this, then? A Med-X syringe?" Mac turned, his eyes narrowed accusingly. "This recent? Vin? No! No more alc'hol fer you, mister. Did you take this just before we hit the hops?"

"I hadd aaa headache. Mmmmigraine. Bad."

"You fu..you dumb son-of-a-brahmin. You _never_ mix these. 'S dangerous."

MacCready threw the syringe into the trashcan and slipped the retrieved cap into his pocket. He pulled the bottle from Vin's determined but weak grasp and felt his forehead. Cold. Clammy. He made Vin drink a can of purified water, who then needed to pee. Mac wasn't risking the crew seeing their new Sentinel like this, so looked around and thrust an empty dogfood can at him.

He could hardly stand so Mac had to do his best to hold him steady whilst he relieved himself, then they both sat down heavily on the bed, Vin wiping his hands on a damp cloth. 

_At least he's not a disgusting drunk._

Mac wrestled one of the drawers free, emptied its contents on the desk and left it by the bed in case the mouthful of whiskey mixed badly with the chems, beer and moonshine, which it probably would, soon. He steered Vin to bed, rolled his eyes when the man couldn't manage to remember to take his boots off before tugging the rest of the orange jumpsuit off his limbs and knelt down to assist.

"Right. Bed. Sir."

Vin grabbed at Mac suddenly before he could stand. He pulled him into a bearhug. "You… aahh couldn't have… not without youuu… best bud. Best."

"Hoookay, Vin. Sleep it off, ya big drunk bear."

Mac made sure Vin was under a blanket. At least there _was_ one in the lockers. He walked to the door, retraced his slightly unsteady steps to grab the whiskey and take it out of Vincent's reach. He wished fervently that they weren't on the Prydwen, where he had to sleep away from his companion, because that would be frowned upon. 

_Frickin' protocols. If Maxson frowned any more his whole face would collapse._

* * *  
(Vincent)  
_I hear a murder of synthetic crows shrieking at me and return to the shores of consciousness just enough to realise that it's actually my alarm going off in my ear. I twist the knob on the PIP-boy to stop the noise and sit up. The world spins a bit. Dammit, am I still drunk?_

_Half a can of purified and I stretch, lower myself into my morning push-ups. I only hit twenty-nine before there's a rap at the door. It's Mac, with a bottle of what he calls 'sober-pop' and most folks name as the 'Refreshing Beverage'. He tells me someone is waiting for me outside. Judging by his smirk, I should be pleased to see them. I really can't think who it might be._

_The now Star-Paladin Brandis calls him over through the open door. Mac asks if I'm alright. I can't think of an uncomplicated honest answer so I tell a simple white lie instead._

"I'm fine."

_Judging by the little twist of his head and the dip of his eyebrows, he's not buying it but closes the door gently. I hear him walk off toward Brandis._

_I open the precious 'sober-pop' and slug it back. It tastes like root beer and iron. Within moments, my head is clear and my energy is up. Well, fuck you, hangover._

_A little voice in my head whispers that maybe, last night, I didn't want to ever wake up again. Maybe I didn't but just maybe I have something worth being awake for._

_I dress and equip and almost trip over the kid crouching on the deck outside, waiting for me. He uncoils like a spring and chats away, giving me a holotape. He asks if maybe there's somewhere he could go, just as Mac rejoins me at my side. I have an idea.  
_

(MacCready)  
_Well, he's looked better but after last night I should be thankful he could get out of bed at all. Still, he'd better appreciate the sober-pop after what I had to do for Teagan to get it. I mean, I love plants but those weird things Neriah's growing, lifting a few leaves here and there just so he could have some weird-ass tea? Not that it was a challenge even with the ol' threeball floating around._

_Brandis wants to be my mentor, officially, since Vin is relatively new to the Brotherhood. He doesn't want to split us up but whenever Vin's off solo or prancing about with Preston, Brandis'll keep me busy. He knows about Duncan now. I told him I'm hoping to see him soon. The Star-Paladin, without hesitation, said they'd give me transport there and back. He told me he had a son once, too. I'm not even gonna go there._

_Right now, I'm awaiting the Sentinel's orders. I don't have to wait long but I don't like what I get._

"Fetch Lancer Rylett. Escort Shaun to Sanctuary. Wait for me there, Knight-Sergeant. Expect me in two days, then I'll have further orders. Dismissed."

 _And that is that. No 'Morning, Mac, thanks for the pop' or 'Hey, fun game last night, let's try it on Garvey'. No. Just orders. Cold, clearcut orders. Which boil down to **babysitting duty** whilst I'm missing _my son _so goddamn much, well thankyou for recognising my sacrifice so we could shoot the original and bring home the copy, a synth kid that you don't even want to parent! Shoot. Maybe I shouldn't have nibbled that leaf. Thought the stuff was meant to make you chill._

"I said, 'dismissed', Knight MacCready."

_I thump myself a little too hard on the chest in salute, take the boy's hand and go find the Lancer. Vincent obviously doesn't want me around right now. Didn't know he could refreeze so fast, freakin' popsicle._

(Vincent)  
_Maybe I was a bit blunt, judging by the way Mac responded. I just needed to be alone to listen to Shaun's holotape._

Vincent sighed as he closed the door. Privacy. An officer's privilige, one that he never took for granted. The clean plastic holotape slid into the cartridge draw and clunked down. That voice, that theatrical tone with a cultured accent oozed out of the speaker:

"If you are hearing this, then whatever conflicts you and I have endured are over. I have no reason to believe you'll honor the request I'm about to make, but I feel compelled to try anyway. This synth, this... boy. He deserves more. He has been re-programmed to believe he is your son. It is my hope that you will take him with you. I would ask only that you give him a chance. A chance to be a part of whatever future awaits the Commonwealth."

Vin sat heavily down onto the bed and covered his eyes with one hand, sliding a finger and thumb smoothly apart over his brows in the way that Nora used to, to help him relax. He breathed deeply.

_Is this a belated olive branch, 'Father' or your attempt at longevity, immortality, even? I really hope he's nothing like you. Still, you found another aspect of my personality to exploit, didn't you? You knew I wouldn't turn him away. You might have re-programmed him to think I'm his Dad but that doesn't mean you get to re-program me to think he's my son. I'll make sure the kid - the synth-kid - is taken care of. Right now I have bigger things to think of._

The sole survivor of Vault one-eleven put the holotape away in a pocket, without thinking, next to the precious last recording of his wife. He opened a filing cabinet and retrieved a blank holotape. Most of the items in this room were exactly as Danse had left them and Vin was glad of the man's orderliness. He stood, squared his shoulders, began pacing and pushed it into his PIP-boy.

[*clunk*]  
Personal log *date withheld*. “Sober again. I don’t have the luxury of falling apart. As Sentinel, I have a renewed responsibility and a certain amount of freedom. I might finally be able to start making amends for my son’s deeds and for my own.  
I am disturbed by Elder Maxon’s blind adherence to the oversimplified enemy classification regs. However, I must remain hopeful that there is a chance that he will see reason. If he’d have shot Danse himself, I wouldn’t still be in the Brotherhood. I’d be blind drunk in Goodneighbor….  
So here’s the plan: approach Colonel Garvey and propose a revival of the Minutemen under guidance of the Brotherhood of Steel, under my personal command. Set up a division with revised enemy classification.  
Non-feral ghouled citizens and Gen 3 synthetics (bar Coursers) that are willing to live peacefully alongside the non-hostile human population are to be protected.  
Children of Atom, Raiders, Gunners if hostile and Trappers, Feral Ghouls and Supermutants are the enemy.  
*sigh* I know this is risky. If Maxson decides to make an enemy of me, I will act in self-defence only. I will not risk the lives of my brothers and sisters for one man’s narrow-mindedness.

Shaun was right about one thing, in a way. We do need to redefine ‘mankind’.” [*click*]

Vincent donned his military cap, checking his appearance on a mirror attached to the inside of one of the locker doors. He noticed a corner of paper poking up from behind the mirror tile and teased it out. It took three attempts to snag it between his short nails but when he withdrew it, he discovered that it was a photograph. A relatively recent one.

A group of Brotherhood soldiers, none in power armour nor with hoods or hats on, all smiling. Even Danse. Vin recognised Rhys and Haylen and even one other, from the Cambridge Police Station though when he had seen the man his spark had already gone out. 

Vin turned the photograph over. In precise handwriting, he read: P. Danse, K-S. Dawes, K. Brach,  
K.Keane, K. Worwick, S. Haylen, K. Rhys. None of the corners were dog-eared, yet there was a very deliberate crease. He folded it to reveal the image of Rhys. _Strange. Did you hate the man to fold him out of the picture… or was it the rest of the group you were hiding away, my friend?_ He tucked the photograph back into its hiding place, making a mental note to ask Danse if he wanted it returned, next time their paths crossed.

Vincent couldn't walk up to Maxson with Danse on his mind, so he decided to go to the galley and whip up some breakfast instead. As usual he ended up making several portions of razorgrain porridge with mutfruit preserve, this time for the gaggle of Squires who arrived at the same time. They couldn't offer to do the dishes fast enough.

The stairwell was being welded, yet again. The scribe mumbled an apology and something about sub-quality metals then removed the flame to let the Sentinel pass.

"Uh, Sir?" said the Scribe to Vincent's backside. "You..uh.. have a little mutfruit on your… um.." 

Vin followed the embarrassed directional nod, cracked a half-smile and wiped his ass with the bit of rag he always had handy, tutting. Squires!

* * *  
(Maxson)  
_I never get tired of this view. Yet, sometimes I wish to have my boots on the ground more often. There is still too much danger down there to risk frequent forays. For now though, I am sated. Our victories against the Railroad and the Institute have secured our place here - our new home - and I have the Sentinel to thank for it._

_The man has no idea how much I admire him, even after… no. I must erase all thoughts of that _thing_ from my mind. The brother I thought I had. Who am I really mad at, though? Desist. Doubts lead to madness. I have an entire Chapter looking to me and a Commonwealth to protect. Ah, but not alone, it seems._

Vincent gave the Brotherhood salute as Maxson turned. He extended an arm to shake Vin by the forearm, curtly.

"Once again, Sentinel, congratulations. You did an outs… a remarkable job."

Vin noticed the change of tack and decided to test the waters.

"Are you alright, Arthur?"

This took Maxson aback. Protocol usually dictated that one may only use the Elder's first name if A), one was in the upper ranks and B), the Elder had first addressed you by your given name.

Perhaps _Vincent_ had forgotten?

"We are not yet at that level of familiarity with each other, Sentinel Hudson," Maxson berated.

"Technically, Sir, it's 'Sentinel-General'. This is what I have come to discuss with you." 

Arthur appraised him for a moment. There was no apology forthcoming for having crossed that personal boundary. The young Elder let it slide, after all, he really could use another friend. He padded over to a side table and poured two drinks. Handing one over, he said, almost mumbling, "Perhaps we can drop formalities a little, then, Vincent." Curiosity about the mention of the title 'General' was eating away at him like Mirelurk Queen spit on a breastplate. He gestured to the red settee. They sat.

Vin realised his faux pas and noted the permission given. "Thankyou, Arthur. Well, it's like this," he drew a steadying breath. "I was already technically General of the Minutemen when I signed up to the Brotherhood."

Maxson's face held the look of a small child trying to fit two shapes in the same hole. 

"There was really nothin' to 'em at the time. One last Minuteman out of Quincy and a few settlers he'd rescued… until they got cornered in the museum at Concord." Vin shrugged. "I might have helped 'em out a bit," he added modestly. "After, he passed on messages from other settlers calling for help. If it didn't conflict with my Brotherhood duties, which it never did, I'd lend a hand. People joined up. We never had enough manpower or resources to take on the Institute but now, the Commonwealth is gettin' stronger. More farms are secure and able to trade produce with the Brotherhood. It's a mutual win/win but I'd like to take it further."

"So… you have accomplished all you did in the name of the Brotherhood whilst also helping to get the Commonwealth to its feet once more?"

Vin might actually have blushed a little. "Yessir, I guess I did."

 _Time to test what exactly has been forged_ thought Arthur.

"And how do the Minutemen - your Minutemen - view the Brotherhood?"

"None too favorably, so far, to be frank. Most are wary, some are suspicious. I'll wager that following our victory there will be some asking if they are next. Bottom line, Arthur, they don't trust you as far as they could throw you."

"But we're here to help them, why would they doubt that now?"

Vin bit back a comment about Arthur's youth showing in the naïvete of that comment and instead explained, "They're in the habit of being afraid. Great big thing in the sky shows up like nothin' they've ever seen before. Didn't matter what you were shouting over the megaphones. All they heard was what you showed them. You know, somebody once said to me, "Hello, words, I'm actions and I'm speaking awfully loud…" Vincent's hand started to quiver involuntarily at the memory of Deacon. If only he could have spared him…

"I see your point." Maxson's curt response jolted him back from the edge of the Post Combat Stress precipice. "How, then, do we act so as to engender trust, do you suggest?"

 _Stop killing Gen threes and treating ghouls like second-class citizens_ , Vin wanted to demand. Instead, he put down his glass and met the younger man's steely-eyed glare. 

"I propose the creation of The Minutemen of Steel."

"You have my attention."

"A voluntary fighting force, as they are now, under the guidance of the Brotherhood. They gain military support when needed, access to equipment, training. You might even get some new recruits out of it. You gain local knowledge, a share of produce and an allied force. The rate settlements are joining up, you'll expand by at least a third within the year."

Maxson may be young but he was no fool. "The caveat?"

"As Sentinel _and_ General, I take the reins, until such time I choose to retire. That my second, Colonel Garvey, and those other few high ranking Minutemen officers be put through an induction process so they fully understand the Brotherhood ways and are granted Brotherhood ranks equivalent to their skill should they so wish to co-sign, voluntarily."

Elder Maxson stood and paced the room for a moment as he mulled it all over. "Return tomorrow at oh-nine-hundred. I will gather the command staff and you can put the proposal to the officers. It is an intriguing proposition, Hudson."

"Arthur. Art? No? Sorry. Please, between the two of us, just call me Vin. There's always room for friendship between soldiers. It tempers their mettle, pun fully intended."

Maxson did actually let a chuckle escape at that. 

"Laughing's good for ya, you should do it more often!"

"Well, perhaps I shall have more opportunity now to excercise those particular muscles," Arthur replied with a small smile.

Vincent's face had set into seriouness as he replied, "Perhaps everybody will."

* * *

[*click*] [28/01/2288] The meeting went well. Lancer-Captain Kells was wary at first but to my surprise it was Proctor Teagan who softened him up by enthusiastically arguing that the Brotherhood would have better access to produce and materials.

Nobody, I noted, even asked for ranks in the Minutemen militia. That would be a clear demotion in their eyes, I guess. However, Ingram suggested a few Initiates such as Clarke, now released from the brig, that might serve better _alongside_ , rather than _in_ the Brotherhood. Kells saw some of his problems solved in this idea and agreed. 

Maxson has requested an audience with the Minutemen officers - so far they number only myself, Colonel Preston Garvey and if he accepts the position, Major MacCready. He's earned it. The Minutemen are a work in progress. 

Our next move is to take back the Castle, the old monument Fort Independence and I have explained as much to the Elder. Maxson said that if the Minutemen can do that without Brotherhood assistance, then we have an agreement. Alright then, test our mettle. The Commonwealth settlers might just surprise you. [*clack*]

The Lancer checked their navigation chart and dropped Vincent right on top of Vault One-Eleven, saying that it would make an outstanding landing pad. 

_There's that word again. I wonder how Danse is doing? Maybe I can keep Haylen out of trouble by sending his supplies with a Minuteman patrol instead. Note to self, run that by her later,_ he thought as he jumped out of the vertibird. It flew off and swirled dry, brown leaves around his boots. Almost February. There should be snow but the weak sun's rays burned with the warmth that rage brings, rage against the recklessness of humanity so that not even a flake could form to settle on the distant mountaintop.

Vin retraced his route, that first journey back into his neighbourhood after escaping the icy clutches of cryostasis. This time, he fought the undercurrent of loss again, of not only his wife but the baby whose whole, corrupted life he had missed. Whose end he himself had brought about… and yet, as he walked through the gate and down the road, past his old, untouched home, he saw his son.

MacCready was kneeling under the mutfruit bush, digging, then holding something up to show the auburn-haired boy in the striped t-shirt. They were both grinning and Vin felt a pang of… what was it? Something he'd not felt in a long time. Not truly. 

He felt as if he belonged. Here, with this synthetic, apparently ten year old boy and this young sharpshooting sniper whose own son was miles away. And yet, he couldn't fit the pieces of the replacement fatherhood that had been foisted upon him and the friendship of his right hand man together to fit the jagged hole that Vault-Tec and the Institute had axed into the ice of his heart. A heart which hadn't yet fully thawed out… but seeing Mac share gardening tips with Shaun brought a warmth, one that quickly cooled when he fully realised his status as a single parent and the military-trained logistics side of his brain scrambled to reconcile duty with care.

"He's such a lovely boy!" said a familiar voice in an unfamiliar, happy tone. Marcy rubbed Vin's arm. "We're so glad you found him. If you ever need…" 

"Actually, Marcy, I do have a favor to ask. Something's come up. Preston wants me to help him re-take the Castle. I need someone to watch… my son."

It felt unnatural, synthetic, even to call _that_ Shaun his son. He knew he was playing on Marcy's bereft mothering instincts but he really did need to help Preston. That, and he wasn't ready to get to know this Shaun just yet. 

"Dad! You're back!"

"Hey Shaun. Mac, we're needed for a mission, leaving a.s.a.p."

Mac touched his cap and grinned as he saw Vin.

"Leaving? But you only just got here!" Shaun said. Marcy gathered him to her protectively, stroking his head, setting her fierce frown in place once more.

"Don't worry, Shaun, Jun and I will watch you until your Dad gets back."

"Well…OK. Dad, can you get me something? I just need an old telephone. I'll make something neat for you, you'll see!"

"He's been helping Sturges refurbish some old lamps already, Vin. Kid's got your knack o' making junk into treasure," Mac added.

"Fine. Knight-Major MacCready, we need to prep and leave in thirty."

"Knight… Major? I don't remember that being a Brotherhood rank?"

"It isn't. It's Minutemen. I'll explain on the way, gear up."

(MacCready)  
_Well the gruff bastard just turned into a brusque bastard. What_ is _up with Vin? Poor Shaun. Kid's hardly seen his Dad for five minutes in a row. And where did this "Major" thing come from? It's what, mix 'n' match militia, now? For fu..frag's sake, we've barely stopped._

A sneaky grey cloud let loose its first few shots, a fat raindrop avoiding his peaked cap to land on the tip of his nose. 

"Great. First, we're gonna get wet. Then, we're gonna get cold."

"Quit griping, soldier. Move out."

 _What the heck happened to the man I call my friend? What's all this business-only attitude? Fine. Look at me **that** way Sentinel-General, sir._

"One order-following Mister Shooty at your service, you ice-hole," Mac mumbled before he realised he'd thought that out loud. Luckily, his commanding officer didn't hear any of it.

Vin hefted his pack onto his shoulder and strode over the bridge.

_One little drop of rain and the guy has to start whining, seriously? I hope the kid'll be okay. Damn if I haven't just done what my mom always did: leave. Is that why Mac is giving me that look? The kid isn't even real. Just a synth. Just like Danse… fuckit. Danse, who I stuck my neck out for because he's a real goddam person to me. So the kid should be too. I just don't feel like… I mean, I don't… don't what, Vinnie? Love him? Why should I. Why should I feel anything for that… that **thing**? Why should I care?_

"You're lucky to have your boy so close. Wish mine was," MacCready suddenly said, grouchily.

Vin changed the subject before he could fall any further down that hole. "Hmm. Here's the plan: we're amalgamating the Minutemen into the Brotherhood. At least, we are if we get that Castle back.

Mac didn't believe what he just heard. "You're _drafting_ the Minutemen?

"I guess I am, as a whole. More like, forging new steel. The Minutemen of Steel."

"You're gonna have Joe an' Jane Settler running ghouls outta their home, next," Mac said darkly. "Sir," he added.

"On the contrary. We're going to show Maxson that the Commonwealth people are more than just the human population… but we need The Castle to do it. We can't afford to fuck this up, Mac. Too many turdmines waitin' to go off in fansville anyway."

At Mac's puzzled expression he elaborated. "Turd. Y'know. Shit. Hittin' all the fuckin' fans."

MacCready cracked up at that, his frown finally worn down. _There he is. Almost thought he'd forgotten himself._

"Permission to speak informally, Sir?"

"Mac. It's just us. What the hell?"

"I'll take that as a yes, then… it's just, ever since the morning after, on the Prydwen, you've been…well…"

"Spit it out, MacCready. 

"All Officer and no gentleman. Blunter than a Supermutant's wit. Snapping like a beartrap. Shall I go on?"

Vin's face fell. "Oh. Went all Staff-Sergeant Snappy on you, did I? Nora's turn of phrase…"

Mac just crossed his arms and let the self-righteous smirk settle in.

"Sorry, Mac. I just… I need to focus on the mission. Take my mind off… y'know."

The smirk evaporated. MacCready put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I know. Just, don't freeze me out again, alright?"

* * *  
They made for Danse's bunker, not the Castle. It was a flying visit, to drop off supplies and check that the ex-Paladin was looking after himself. He declined the return of the photograph but Vin could tell Danse was putting Haylen and Rhys' safety above his own sentimentality. He told them that he'd picked up a frequency from what used to be, judging by the old maps in the place, Bar Harbor. He'd already managed to find a boatman willing to take him. He just needed a new name.

"You can do all that but not come up with a name, Mr. Eyebrows?" Mac teased.

"I do not think that 'mister eyebrows' passes muster… mister… mister green hat."

"Nice try but don't put your hopes on becoming a comedian. How about something you'll remember, something close to your real name. What is your real name anyhow, Danse?

"Saul J. Danse."

"What does the 'J' stand for?"

"Does it matter? Do synths even have real names anyway?" he snapped.

Vin stepped closer to say softly, "Let it go afterwards if you like but indulge us, brother. What's your middle name? Mine's Nathaniel, Mac's is Joseph."

"It's Turkish. It means 'enduring'."

"Well?" prompted Mac, genuinely curious, especially now Vin had revealed theirs.

"Jerfi."

"Zhe-ru-fee?" attempted Mac 

"Close enough."

"Weird! How about Dan. Ooh, I know, 'Diesel Dan. Makes you sound like a mechanic."

"Hmm. Serviceable."

MacCready burst out laughing which petered out when he realised that he was the only one. "Oh. That wasn't a joke?"

They saw 'Diesel Dan' off, from a distance and headed to Cambridge Police station to update Haylen, staying for a few hours. Vin recorded another personal holo when he came down from the roof, Mac noticed, before they headed off.

* * *  
(Vincent)  
_It's been a pretty auspicious day. Nora used to scoff at my interest in the horoscope and that numberology thing. I recall the number eight being good luck for prosperity and today is February second, twenty two eighty eight. Four twos in that make an eight, makes three eights. I'm gonna take that as a real good sign._

_Old Fort Indepence has seen better days. It was a mirelurk nesting site, turns out. We gathered at the old cafe nearby, myself, Mac and Preston Garvey, who introduced us to his guy Alan Saxon who's a radio specialist, Ruth Miller and Xavier Sanchez. They all had ideas on how to approach the breached walls but I went with Ruth's pincer movement approach. Rest in peace, Miller._

_There were mirelurks hiding everywhere, easy enough to clear out but the Queen was just offshore. I had no idea a mirelurk Queen would be that huge. That acid.. poor Ruth got hit right in the face before I could get a shot off. Two hits from my quad-barrelled rocket launcher and the monstrous crab went down._

_We cleared the eggs and skat from the parapets and main chambers. I helped Saxon get a couple of old generators fixed up with the junk laying around. I don't think Radio Freedom will give D.C.R. a run for its money but at least folks will be able to call in easier and keep an ear out for trouble. Preston's grinning like a little kid. Fuck, yeah. We have a_ castle __!

* * *  
MacCready finished planting the memorial Mutfruit tree at the edge of the courtyard. Sanchez ambled up, his pincer-bruised arms full of thick church candles, his cheeks still wet from crying. Mac looked up.

"Thanks, man. Oh, hey, sorry. Was she your…?"

"Just friend. Best friend," Sanchez replied. He squatted down, rooted the candles in the rubble and Mac passed him his lighter.

Vin approached softly and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Couldn't have done this without her, Xavier. We'll get this place patched up. It'll mean something again, you'll see. Follow me. First official Minutemen meeting, gentlemen."

The five men sat around the ornate wooden table in the General's Quarters. Vin dredged up knowledge from his semester focussed on architectural engineering and laid out initial plans to patch the walls and protect the radio equipment. Saxon sent word out for more hands, provisioners and essential personnel. Preston had explained that the poor turnout was due to the few ex-Minutemen left being either unfit for duty or downright discouraged.

(MacCready)  
_We did it! We've got ourselves a freakin' fortress! It stinks of 'lurk still but I feel pretty safe under these nice, thick stone ceilings. Almost as good as rock._

_I didn't tell Sanchez that I had to fire a mercy shot after Miller had half her face melted off. Damn. Kinda wish they'd all had power armor, not just me an' Vin._

_Look at him, standing up there, both fists on the table holding down scrawled blueprints already. He's every bit the General, always has been even if he doesn't see it himself. Garvey's practically eating out of his hand._

_I did my bit, pointed out the best defensive spots, also pointed out the obvious that these troops are gonna need to be well armed and armored and that with the various kit Vin and I have already salvaged and stashed at settlements all over the Commonwealth, they should get off to a good start._

Vin rolled up the plans and sat. Preston's radio crackled to life. Tenpines Bluff called in, they were having ghoul problems. 

"Welp, here we go again!" said MacCready.

"Preston and I can handle this one, Mac. When the workforce arrives, I want you to take Brandis up on his offer of that Vertibird," 

"Wha.. how did you know?"

"He asked my permission. Go and see your son. If he's well enough to travel, bring him back to Sanctuary, unless… unless you're done? You've earned the right to go home, Mac."

"Sir, I'm not about to abandon the Brotherhood, nor the Minutmen of S...The Commonwealth, Sir. Nor you, Vin. You've done so much for me already…"

"We're even, Mac. You don't owe me anything, anymore."

"Just my loyalty, Sentinel-General, Sir."

Preston smiled as Vin flushed red. "Well, then, Knight-Major. Be back here in a week."

Garvey patted Mac's arm. "Jun and Marcy will watch your son for a few days when you return. They'd have a house full of kids if they could. Don't worry, tell them it was my idea."

MacCready suddenly looked every bit the tired young parent that he was, replying in a meek voice, "Alright. If he's strong enough to travel, I will. Thankyou, sirs."

* * *  
(Preston)  
_He actually did it. Strike that. **We** actually did it. I gotta be honest with myself, I still hardly know the man. I'm just glad to get this chance to be on the road with the one person my gut told me to call General. I don't think he realises how much he's done for us. Is **doing** for us. _

_I get that he had to focus on finding his son. Didn't expect he'd go full Steel nor that he'd rise so high in the ranks. He could've done what all those Brotherhood soldiers do and ignore the common folk, the voluntary militia, such as we are._

_But no. Vincent Hudson isn't like most people. I can see he has something in mind but he hasn't let on what, yet. I think MacCready almost let it slip._

_We deal with the ferals bothering Tenpines, help them fix up a shack as they've got more farmhands now. Vincent says something about supplying the Prydwen. Guess they're not fully self-sufficient up there, then._

_A couple more calls, more feral ghouls stirred up. Maybe it was that huge explosion out in Cambridge that's got them all jitterbugged. Vincent reckons some were probably trapped under rubble since the big ones hit. We know ferals can hibernate for years at a time. I just hope there isn't enough human left in those withered husks to feel suffering but I fear that I'm wrong on that score._

_Vincent opened up to me a little about what he did, what he had to do. How the ten year old kid at Sanctuary, ostensibly his son even down to his DNA is actually a synthetic copy of his biological son who turned out to be sixty already and dying. Man, and I thought I had a lot to deal with._

_I watch and listen to how he is with the settlers we help, human and ghoul alike. He lives up to his title, I'm relieved to find. I tell him how I joined up under Colonel Ezra Hollis at seventeen. How things fell apart after General Joe Becker died._

_We end up at the Slog after helping Wiseman out. Good people. Damn good tarberries._

Vin and Preston sat by the poolside, eating The Slog's famous produce.

"I always believed the Minutemen could be the good guys. I mean, the Railroad, they don't sound too bad," Preston commented. He noticed Vincent freeze up, saw his hand start to shake before the General hid it by crossing his arms.

"They're nothing but a rumor, Preston," Vin deflected.

Garvey was an expert in reading faces. He knew Vincent was holding something back but nevertheless, he said, "I trust you. And I don't say that lightly."

Vin's PIP-boy flashed up a notification. He tuned in to hear an older woman's voice demanding that the new General get his heinie to the Castle, pronto. The two men bid farewell to Wiseman and his community and quick-marched back to the Castle.

[*click*]  
Well, I met Ronnie Shaw today, the cantankerous old battleaxe. She told me she's seen plenty of Generals come and go so her respect won't come just because of a title, that I have to earn it.

I like her.

Preston admitted than when we met, he gave me an almost impossible job but, he said, 'look where we are now!'

Thanks to Ronnie, and a bit of heavy rubble lifting on my part, we got into the tunnels, cleared the defenses poor old General McGann left behind and gained access to the armory. We only have ourselves some artillery! I've got construction started on one per point of the Castle. Volunteers and supplies have started pouring in so I made a few sets of Minutemen fatigues reinforced with ballistic weave. I try not to think about where I learned to do that. [*clack*]

_Since the renovations are underway, I decide that it's time to call **the** meeting. Saxon, Ronnie, Sanchez and Preston are present. I feel Mac's absence keenly but his boy needs him. So, I present my plan, a way up for the Minutemen and a way forward for the whole Commonwealth. _

_The Minutemen of Steel._

_Ronnie's response is less than favourable, something about molerats growing wings before she'd join those ghoul-hating, tin-plated invaders. Preston has to stand up and put his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. I explain again that, like it or not, they're here and that we have a unique opportunity._

_I've destroyed half the Commonwealth and somehow become an ambassador for peace. The irony doesn't escape me._

_Preston gets it. By attaching ourselves to the Brotherhood, we at least have a chance to steer them in the direction that is the most conducive to creating a thriving society._

_Ronnie grumbles but makes it very clear that everyone in that room should be Minutemen above everything else. "Even you, mister Golden Sentinel boy. Sir," she says._

_I really can't help but like her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The explosion of C. I. T. created reverberations that Vincent will feel for a long time to come. 
> 
> This chapter contains Vincent's Log 4 - from Vincent, Redefined (Part 1), makes mention of Log 5 and Log 6, adding context and depth to those early chapters that were originally just short Tumblr posts.
> 
> I hope you are enjoying Vin & Mac's origin story and seeing the first struggling sparks of what is to become a fully-fledged romantic relationship. Do leave comments - the more detail the better but even a quick note is much appreciated.


	21. Holotape U - Unsolved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Institute gone and the rebuilding of the Castle underway, Vincent is 'strongly encouraged' to take a break by his companions. He gives MacCready leave to go to his son and finds himself in Diamond City, looking for a distraction.
> 
> Things are never simple for Vin. Instead of taking it easy, he finds himself taking on a case.

"I couldn't stay more than two days at the Castle after I'd informed the Elder of our success. He sent a detachment of Knights and Scribes to assist with the building efforts and actually strongly suggested I take some leave. Cade put him up to that, I'm sure of it. Help flooded in from across the Commonwealth, including Sturges. He and Preston, armed with the plans I'd laid out, basically sent me packing.

So I decided to come hang out in Diamond City, pay Piper and Valentine a visit, check the quality of the drinks at the Dugout, if you catch my drift. At least I have Homeplate to crash at. It's still pretty bare, dusty and cold but it's dry, private and mine.

Piper's out chasing some new story so I'm gonna go call on Valentine when I've finished these noodles."

" _Nani shimashou ka?_ " asked the Protectron. Vin was the only one at the noodlebar, the stores were closed or closing and the only busy places were the bars. Even the Diamond City guards were scarce since the regular stomp of Brotherhood boots had begun.

"No thanks, Taka. Mac's the one who can somehow eat two bowls of this and he's outta town right now. I don't know where he puts it all. One was enough for me."

Vin slid the empty bowl across the counter toward the Protectron, who grabbed it and added it to the pile of soaking bowls in the sink behind it.

_I feel incomplete, underequipped, without my Knight-Major, my guardian angel, my best friend by my side. I realise that I miss the goofball. I hope he gets to bring his kid home… I mean, back to Sanctuary. One of us should get to be a real dad, at least._

_The sun's gone down and the big stadium lights come on. Myrna almost cracks a smile when she sees me as Percy takes her place. She reminds me so much of Marcy. I keep meaning to ask if they're related. Arturo invites me to join him for a drink at the Dugout. I take a raincheck. Gotta catch up with Valentine first._

Vincent knocked on the Detective Agency's door.

"Come in, we're still open!" called Ellie. "Oh, it's you, Mr. Hudson!"

From behind her, Vin suddenly heard Nick's well worn voice, not calling out the expected word of greeting ('hell-o' is very apt, these days, Vin mused) but instead the old synth decided to go all theatrical: 

"And the people of the Commonwealth slept soundly, for the greatest monster was gone."

Vin said nothing but took a seat as Ellie closed the door behind him.

"It took a lotta guts to push that button. I know it couldn't have been easy," Valentine remarked.

"It had to be done," Vin replied in a quiet voice. His right hand started to shake slightly as those words ignited emotions that cast shadowy memories dancing. He shifted his left leg and his attention to ease the restlessness there.

"You'll get no argument from me," Valentine continued. "It's hard to even wrap your head around - a world without the Institute, lurking in the shadows. But that's the life the people of the Commonwealth will get to lead now. All thanks to you."

"I didn't do it alone," Vin muttered.

"Sure, sure. But we both know, without you, none of this would've ever been possible. This is a brave new world you've ushered in. But I suppose it'll do."

"It'll have to. We're not gettin' the old one back."

"Would we really want to? I was hoping to hear from you sooner, Vincent. My sources tell me I should call you by a title but one says 'Sentinel' whilst the other says 'General', so which is it? They also say that you brought your boy home."

"Both. And…not exactly."

Ellie handed Vin a coffee but by now his hand was shaking so much that even taking the cup with two hands, some of the hot liquid spilled and scalded his hand. "DAMMIT!"

"Sorry! Oh, sorry sir, let me get you a cold cloth."

Ellie disappeared in a fluster to the back room whilst Valentine scooted his office chair closer. Vin was shaking now, his whole body tremoring whilst he drilled holes into the desk with his haunted gaze. 

"Ellie," called Nick, his tone full of concern. "Get Doc Sun."

"It was just a scald… oh. Here. Be right back, Nick."

Valentine placed the cold cloth that his secretary had handed him gently onto the rising red welt on the back of Vin's right hand.

"You're safe here, friend," he said in his low, soothing voice. "Vincent, I need you to look at me. I know these headlamps o' mine ain't the most relaxing sight but I need to see your eyes. There we go. Thought as much. I know PCSS when I see it. Now you gotta help me out a bit. What eases it for ya?"

Just the sound of Valentine's smooth, Chicago-tinged accent pulled Vin out of his daze enough to answer. 

"Smokes. Cigars're best. Remind me o' my Pop. A good man. K..keep talkin' to me, Nick. Sh..shakes'll stop eventually."

"Sure thing. Happen to have a box of Boston Bluebands here, gift from a client. Prefer cigarettes, myself. Mind if I smoke, too?"

Vin shook his head and Valentine helped him light up. 

"Wanna get anything of your chest, Hudson?"

Vin held a lungful of smoke and exhaled forcefully. "It was sixty years, Nick. Not ten. I was in stasis for six fuckin' decades," Vin swallowed, his voice a hollow monotone. "Shaun was raised by the Institute. Became its Director. Got sick; he was a dying old man when I met him. I…. Kellogg's gun. I ended him with… with it." He closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet cigar smoke, the scent and flavour a poor replacement for his Pop's steadying hand on his shoulder but steadying, nonetheless.

He continued on the exhale, getting it all out whilst he still could. "The kid's a synth. Thinks I'm his Dad. Railroad's gone too. I followed orders so I could get to my son an' I lost him anyway. My family's gone, Nick. Never had a chance," Vin said to Nick's worn old brogues.

Valentine slowly leaned back in the old chair, making both it and some part of his robotic frame creak. He could only say, "That's a helluva lot to process," before Ellie opened the door and was followed in by Dr. Sun. Nick took him aside to relay the gist of what he had heard without giving away too many personal details. The doctor nodded, then examined Vin quickly. 

"Slight dissociation, stress-induced myoclonus. Are you under the influence of chems or alcohol right now, Mister Hudson?"

"Sentinel-General. Too much right now. What? No. No chems. I'm sober."

"Any previous diagnosis of Post Combat Stress Syndrome or other trauma induced anxiety disorders?"

"Yes. 2071. Lost three family members in the same year. 2077, Battle of Anchorage, lost most of my platoon and my hearing. Got half my hearing back. Got half my friend back too, poor ol' Sparks."

"Pre-war, yes. Cryostasis won't have helped any. Well, your body needs rest, your muscles need to relax. A double dose of Daytripper and sleep ought to do it for now. Take one now and Detective Valentine, if I could ask you to play nurse, he needs to stay here overnight for the safety of himself and others. I need someone to watch him and as you don't sleep…"

"Sure, sure. He can use my bed."

"Very good. Give him the second dose in a few hours when the first wears off. No food or alcohol until the morning, then see that he gets a good meal. Should be right as rain after that. Until the next episode, at least." Dr. Sun turned his furrowed brow toward Vincent. "You need to address this, sir." 

"I'll take it up with the Medical Officer on the Prydwen, Doctor Sun. Thankyou."

"No need to thank me. Just take your meds, rest, eat and pay your bill in the morning and if this Brotherhood physician can't help, well, you make sure to call on me again. Oh and find a distraction, something to keep you occupied. Good evening." The doctor saw himself out.

Vin swallowed the pill with the cooling coffee, immediately feeling the shakes subside. 

"Mister Hudson? Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Well, if it isn't too forward of me Miss Perkins," Vin smiled weakly, "I could really use a hug."

* * *  
(Vincent)  
 _I keep falling apart and somehow, there's always someone to put me back together. Nick's bedside manner was, well, awkward but he made sure I got my second dose of Daytripper and that allowed me to sleep off the shakes._

_Ellie presents a full on breakfast: mirelurk egg omelette, grilled radstag, gourd and carrot mash and a coffee. White coffee! I don't know where they found the creamer and sugar but I'm not arguing._

_Valentine suggests, if I'm feeling up to it, that I might help him work through some of his case files. They say a change is as good as a rest so I agree._

_The first case: a missing person. Earl Sterling works at the Dugout Inn but hasn't been seen for a few days. 'The Institute took him' is a poor excuse for the City security not being on the job. I doubt that was the case; they were too busy getting blown up at the time._

_I look down at my hand to check. No, still steady. Good. Moving on._

_Vadim gives us Earl's spare key. He'd locked himself out enough times to start keeping one in the small office at the Inn. I find a clue which leads to…well. Let's just say a grizzly conclusion. I remember Doc Crocker doing my eagle tattoo and bring a hand to my neck as I swallow hard._

_Helluva distraction. Poor Earl._

(Valentine)  
 _Hudson really gave us a scare the other night. I have memories that aren't mine of a cop the old Nick used to know. The guy was ex-army, served his tour of duty then retrained as a beat cop. He didn't declare his medical condition, neither did his doctor. Guy must've slipped him a bribe to land the job. Something triggered his PCSS and he went from a decent policeman to a perp charged with manslaughter in one night. He got let off the charges by pleading insanity and got shipped off to Parsons, poor bastard._

_The Sentinel-General is made of stronger stuff, though, I can tell. I know the orange flags fluttering over the city are due to him. I'm not keen on the Brotherhood just like they're not keen on me but Hudson has the Minutemen under his command too. I'll be very interested to see where this goes._

_For now, the man has two solved cases under his belt. I'm gonna have to add 'Detective' to those titles of his. Let's see if we can find out what became of Marty... and if Hudson can keep it together for a few more days._

* * *  
Vincent crouched low, Valentine following closely behind. Fanueil Hall loomed grandiosely on their right. Vin tipped his head to one side. "You hear beeping?"

"It ain't me, this time," Nick quipped. At Vin's puzzled expression he added, "Remind me to tell you that story sometime. Oh, hey, now I do."

"Suicider," groaned Vin. He lifted his rifle and peered around the corner stones. He saw the supermutant stomping toward them, following the hound that had picked up their scent. Well, maybe just Vin's scent unless the faint cigarette, whisky and silicone tones had tickled the mutant dog's nostrils.

He aimed for the mininuke, seeing two more unnaturally muscular green figures behind him. He missed and started to panic. What would Mac do? Go for a headshot, that's what. They run faster than you realise, as if they were going for a terminal touchdown. His shot only nicked the big lout's ear, the hound at his heels whining its last utterance under Valentine's fire.

"Do it NOW!" Nick shouted urgently.

The third shot found its mark. The green body fell, sliding on the flagstones until Vin could step forward just one pace to retrieve the nuke. Other mutants ran down the alley toward them but unlike the first, they didn't even get close.

Inside the building, Vin noticed Protectrons and a tempting terminal. Maybe they could save some ammo.

"Cover me, Nick."

"Want me to talk to that terminal for ya?"

"No, I got this."

It wasn't too difficult a hack and Vin's smug grin and the Protectrons came out simultaneously. He and Nick ducked for cover as the robots' biometric scanners registered them as guests and the Supermutants as trespassers. Vin snuck down the stairs after the first round of gunfire and started scavenging as the second round sounded, muffled, farther in.

"You, ah, got a thing for antiques, huh?"

The smirk that met that comment was a carbon copy of MacCready's, Valentine noted. "Takes one to know one. Hey, you see any aluminum, pick it up for me?"

"Sure thing. Reckon we should follow the domehead, now?"

Vin noted that the clunky Protectron noises and the gunfire had stopped but noticed something on the floor before he could answer. "Hey, look at this, Nick."

Vin had knelt down to pick up a toy car and spotted a spatter of dried blood. Not the deep grey-green of dried supermutant blood but the russet-brown of deoxygenated, leaking human.

Nick examined it. "Looks fresh enough to be relevant. There's a direction to the drop pattern, too." That way, pointed his bared metallic finger.

The two pressed onward, finding a staircase and hearing more deep voices. Vin took point, taking the brutes down before they could spill either blood or lubricant. They followed the trail of dried droplets, fallen in larger spots now, up to the top floor. 

"Goodness. Did Marty really try and get through all this on his own?" Nick muttered.

The door opened quietly to Vin's careful touch but the warbling siren-howl of a mutant hound brought yet another target into his rifle's sights. Valentine's shot nicked its throat whilst Vin's double-tap caught both hound and mutant. These unnatural beings, product of a fevered dream, lay still on the floor. Vin took out his knife and sliced some cuts off the hound.

"You really desperate enough to eat that?"

"I ate worse overseas. Besides, it absorbs rads pretty well."

"Well, I for one wouldn't consume anything the Forced Evolutionary Virus mutated. Not that I eat, as such. Who knows what it might do to you?"

"Scribe Neriah says the FEV doesn't, um, 'have a bearing on the nutritional effectiveness nor is a threat once cooked'. I just don't eat it rare."

"Hmm. Well, if you start turnin' green and bustin' through your shirt, don't say I didn't warn ya."

Vin laughed, eliciting a wry grin from the old detective. "Say, uh, got a sec?"

"Sure, seems quiet enough. What's up?"

"It's just, with everything that's happened with you, your family. It's a whole hell of a lot to process. I wanted to make sure you're holding up alright."

Vin looked away from those piercing amber eyes and fiddled with a loose strap on his vambrace. "Doesn't really matter. I'm here now. I've just got to deal with that."

"Good attitude to have. Not the way I felt. Took me a long damn time to get a feel for this place," Nick replied.

'Yeah, well, I went in at the deep end."

"I'll fill ya in on the details later, if you wanna hear 'em, suffice it to say that it took me a long time to realize that home is where you make it. With some time and effort, this place can be home for you, too."

"Thanks, Nick, I appreciate that. Let's crack this case and you can tell me your story over a whiskey when we get back."

"Sure, sure. Heh. Ol' Marty used to drink too damn much." Valentine was now searching the ground for more grisly 'breadcrumbs'.

" 'Used to'? You don't think he's hiding out somewhere?"

"Maybe. Could be he found that treasure and has gone off to retire in a bar somewhere...but this, " Valentine said, finding a trail leading to a blood-encrusted ladder, "this doesn't look too good."

They emerged onto the roof. The light breeze carried the stench of Supermutant meat piles but the body they found in front of them had been there too long for its odour to compete.

"Hmm. Guess Marty never quite made it. Don't worry, pal. We'll close this one out for ya."

Vin patted him on the arm in condolence. "Hey, Nick, I see it. The Grasshopper he was after. Wonder what's so special about it?"

"Well, you might as well climb up there and get it, if you think you can."

"You're lookin' at the D.B. Tech Highschool gymnastics champ…an' I still got it, pal," grinned Vincent boastfully.

He scurried up the roof and tilted dome, unscrewed the ornament from the weathervane and pulled out a parchment hidden in the hollow threaded tube. He jumped down and showed it to Nick.

"Nimble one, aren't ya?"

"Was gonna go pro-gymnast but I got drafted."

"Caught in life's undertow like so many others, huh," Nick commented in a low voice. "Here." Nick prodded the ancient paper with his metallic finger. "Shem Drowne's grave. That's what Marty was lookin' for. Wanna go dig up some history?"

"Sure. Maybe we'll find something the Minutemen could use. If not, well, I'll have a story to tell Preston either way."

"Guy's a history buff, huh?"

Vin just nodded in exaggerated fashion and the two went in search of the final resting place of old America's first weathervane craftsman and coppersmith.

They returned to Diamond City a couple of hours later. The grave had yielded some precious metals. Nick shook his head. "So, Shem Drowne had himself buried with all his treasure. Guess some people just can't let go."

"That's not always easy to do," Vin muttered. There was a flicker of compassion in the old synth's eyes.

"Well it ain't doin' old Shem any good, might as well take the lot," Nick said. Vincent also retrieved a fine looking revolutionary sword that had a strange, greenish sheen to it. His PIPboy warned that it was mildly radioactive but Vin took it anyway. "It'll look good on the wall at the Castle," he remarked.

Ellie was looking a little anxious when they walked in. "Oh, any luck? Did you find him?"

"Dead. Made it all the way through Faneuil Hall, too. Went out like a champ," Valentine said.

Ellie shook her head in disbelief. "No foolin'. Our Marty made it through Faneuil Hall. Didn't think he had it in him!" She put a coffee pot on the hotplate. "And how're you holding up, mister Sentinel-General?"

"Miss Perkins, Ellie. Just 'Vin' is fine and I'm doing okay, thanks to you both. Doc Sun was right, I needed a distraction."

"Well, Hudson, you did a heck of a job. Wanna add 'Detective' to that list of titles?"

"I'm beginning to think that's part of my job description anyway," Vin laughed.

"Well, no rush now but I've been putting together a file on this one for a while now," Nick handed Vincent another folder. "There's a pair of holotapes in here worth listening to..."

"Eddie W… hang on, I think I found a couple like these already."

"Well, I'm impressed! Seven more and we'll have the set. Like I said though, take your time. This one's not goin' anywhere fast."

Vin shared a coffee (Ellie snuck cold water in it so Vin wasn't at risk of another scalding), then headed off to Homeplate to rest. He managed to sleep for a few hours but his nightmares woke him and before he knew it, he was knocking on Valentine's door first thing in the morning.

"You up for travelling with me?"

"Always, pal."

They followed the trail all over the Commonwealth, barely stopping. Valentine actually had to remind Vin that if he needed to eat or sleep, he should do so, even though Valentine himself didn't need to. When Vin ignored that, the old synth said he needed to run a diagnostic and made out as if it would take all night, just to get Vin to lay down on the conveniently nearby mattress to make him get some shut-eye. 

* * *  
Vin's PIPboy woke him. A message from MacCready was relayed:  
[Arrived, Capital Wasteland: KS-M MacCready, SP Brandis, L Morton. Delayed. E.T.A.: +7]

(Vincent)  
 _The lack of detail in the Knight-Major's message concerns me. A whole 'nother week 'til they get back… I hope that the MacCreadys are alright. I trust Mac but again, I'm feeling his absence keenly. I miss him like I miss Vonnie but at least there's the possibility of seeing MacCready again. I don't have so much as a picture of my cousin Vaughn._

_We rounded up the holotapes quickly. I remember reading about Eddie Winter in the newspaper, nasty bastard. I gave Nick the holo I found in the lockup at B.A.D.T.F.L. too, didn't need to tell him I'd listened to it. I'm starting to understand Nick Valentine._

_He crunches the numbers and cracks the code. We've taken down his goons and are at the bunker door before I realise. Not sure this is really the kind of distraction that's best for my health but it'll do. I need to keep busy._

_So I stood back, only shooting sarcasm whilst Valentine_ said _his piece before shooting it. The old gangster had taken some experimental drug and probably become the world's first ghoul. Well, I don't know why the crook waited so long to make a serious move, though it looked like they might have been recruiting but I'm glad I could help Nick out. I think, if I'd ever met the human Nick Valentine, we would've been friends. Then as we exit through a Speakeasy, he remarks on how it reminds him of Nicolai's, then he looks at me kinda funny for a moment and shakes his head._

_Vonnie and I used to drink there too._

_I follow him through and up, out onto the street. He talks about the original Nick, about his murdered fiancée, about putting that guy to rest. Wait, didn't Nora have a friend called Jenny something? Well, an acquaintance. Anyway. She wasn't returning Nora's calls…_

"Was her surname Lands, Nick?" Vin asked softly.

"Yeah, yes it was. How'd you know?"

"I think she and my wife knew each other."

Nick cocked his head to one side. If he were human, he would have been taking a deep breath. "Stranger things have happened," he murmured.

"And then some," Vin agreed. He really looked at the old synth's face, telling his curious engineer's mind to back off and shifted his attention to Nick's expression rather than the exposed metal and plastic structures. Those weren't the inner workings Vin was currently trying to puzzle out.

"Taking down Winter was a big deal. Are you doing alright?" 

"I don't know. It's a lot to take in. Winter was it, the only reminder left of the original Nick Valentine. The last proof outside of some long lost Institute archive I was ever just a mechanical copy of some cop from a bygone era. I'm not sure how to feel."

_He might not feel that he's anything but a copy. Personally, I think he's dissociating. I perceive a real guy with a full-body prosthesis. He lost his fiancée, if he needs distance from that, I can't blame him. At least I got to marry Nora. We raised a family… for a while._

_Nick talks about Justice. About doing what's good. We did that and nobody can take that away. That's ours, he says, and ours alone._

_I don't know if it tips the scale any to balance out what I've done. All the lives I've taken, the ones that never had it coming. The ones that were caught in the crossfire of so-called Commonwealth Justice, that just got between me and **'Father'**. I can only hope that the evacuation order came soon enough to get the kids out... _

"Hudson. Hey, Vincent, you in there pal?"

"Hmm? Yeah. Sorry Nick, I get… "

"Flashbacks?"

"Yes. But I'm fine," Vin grouched before Nick could even ask. "We should get out of the open. Get back to Diamond City."

"Good plan. I'm betting there's a bottle o' whiskey with our names on it at the Dugout."

* * *

No sooner had Nick and Vin walked through the arched gate than they saw a man slumped at the bottom of the steps, a small crowd gathering round.

Pastor Clements was calling, "Hold on, Sullivan! Just make God wait a little longer..."

Vincent flew down the steps, Valentine close behind. 

"Two slugs in the gut... plus the fall from the elevator..." Danny Sullivan croaked. "I ain't gonna make it...You gotta listen. Mayor McDonough. I saw him with one of those Institute synths..."

"Hold on Danny," Vin said, whipping out a Stimpak and jabbing in deep into his abdomen, making him wince. "What happened?"

"I was making my rounds near the mayor's office when I heard shouting," Danny's laboured breaths began to ease. "Thought he was in trouble at first...Then when I found him, he was with a synth. One of those older ones with all the metal parts."

"Take your time, buddy," Vin soothed.

"Said something about how they can't do this to him. That's when they noticed I was there. Got plugged two times before I ran to the elevator... I remember falling... Then it's kind of hazy..."

"Just rest, Sullivan. Pastor, keep an eye on him?"

"Piper was right, he's one of them! We should've done something... about McDonough... Ain't like we weren't warned. Just didn't want to admit it... " Danny choked out. Vin gave him a sip of purified water.

"Thank you... I feel better... If you don't mind... I'm... I'm just gonna stay here for a bit..."

Vincent stood. "And I'm gonna go do something about McDonough," he said, angrily.

(Vincent)  
 _When I arrive at the Mayor's office, Piper is trying to kick the door down. The secretary is missing but then I hear her muffled cry from inside. Coward's gone and got himself a hostage. Remembering Kellogg's secret room, I look for a similar hidden switch under Geneva's desk and find it. Piper gives me an impressed smile and raises her gun as the door opens._

_McDonough's sputtering like a fat cornered housecat. He has no idea what he's doing. Desperation and ignorance make for a dangerous combination, so I try the gentle approach. I persuade the Mayor to let poor Geneva go and face him with his crimes, give him the chance to face a jury. Valentine makes approving noises at my shoulder. But no, the idiot chooses to raise a gun at us. If he can't have it all, he's willing to lose everything._

_My gun fires. McDonough just tried himself, the idiot. Piper's not gonna let that smug expression off of her face for a month. She was right, the man was a synth. I can see the snowglobe in his shattered skull._

_So where did the Institute synth go? Danny said it was an 'older one with all those metal parts'. A Gen One? With the Institute gone, who sent it? Were they trying to withdraw from Diamond City? Retreat and regroup? Who could be leading the remnants?_

_I put this all to Valentine who sighs and tells me, no matter how many cases you close, there's always a new one to open. Geneva practically shoves a brand new folder in his hands. She's shaky but okay, picks up her coat and walks out._

_Piper starts taking notes, tells me she's got a lot to clean up here and that the City's gonna need her for a while. Three solid witnesses plus the hostage; normally I'd call Danny up but the poor guy's gonna be out of the loop for a week. Piper tells me to hit up Weirzbowski. I have no idea which D.C. guard that is until she tells me he's the one who got shot in the ass. Now I know him. Don't get why you'd go round tellin' that to strangers but hey._

_So that's another bit of Institute shrapnel pulled. The Commonwealth's going to be busy doing that for a while, I bet._

* * *

Vin spent the remainder of the afternoon at Homeplate, tinkering with an old stove that had been delivered to Diamond City Surplus for him. He fimally got the pipes sealed and the oven door back on its hinges, cleaned it and rewarded himself with a large meal.

"It's quiet. Too quiet…," Vin said to the empty apartment. "Damn, MacCready. You'd better get your tattered-ass coat tails back here soon. Maybe I'll go catch Arturo for that drink."

The weapons trader was just packing up as Vin walked out of the blue Homeplate door. "Hey, Rodriguez, you thirsty?" 

"Sure, let me just get Nina to bed, I'll meet you there. Say, what should we call you now? Piper said a bunch of titles I didn't catch."

"Technically, Sentinel-General Hudson," Vin replied, then soft-punched his arm, "but friends call me Vin. Oh, does Nina like Gumdrops?"

"Does Nina like gumdrops? Does your PIPboy have a geiger counter? Of course!"

Vin felt a shiver at the mention of the geiger counter. It was the Railroad's last callsign. The counter-sign had almost tripped off his tongue but he caught it in time and just smiled, handing the candy over.

The Dugout Inn was quiet, this early in the evening. Vin ordered a beer but got Vadim frothing at him as well. He had had an idea, one that his long-suffering twin was currently shaking his head at. 

"Okay," said Vadim in the thick, Slavic accent that had somehow survived two centuries away from the homeland. Maybe there was an entirely Russian settlement somewhere, mused Vin, just like the Nordic boat he'd heard tales of. "So," Vadim continued, "Travis needs to believe in himself, yes? Believe he is capable of more. You know what works well for this? A bar fight! Ever been in one?"

Vin thought back to his early days as a Private on leave and catching that jerk Vince being an utter slimeball and the ensuing bar-crawl that escalated from fist fighting through knuckle dusters to a baseball bat. He'd got off lightly, only because his victim had harrassed so many ladies. Still, the police records from all those years ago were still up on a South Boston police terminal that he hoped Valentine hadn't read.

"I can hold my own, if that's what you mean."

"Exactly what I mean. I want you to back up Travis in his first fight."

_I thought it was harmless enough. Vadim had some guys who were willing to put on a show, so when I returned later to find two real mean lookin' guys bothering the skinny D.J. I felt my hackles rise. Bull and somethin'. They didn't do any major damage to Travis but neither did they pull their punches with me. My gut told me these guys had a genuine mean-streak so I didn't hold back, knocked Bull's tooth out and sent 'em both packing with their tails between their legs. Sure perked Travis up a bit._

_I thought nothing of it the next day, doing up my little apartment. By the time I went for an early evening beer, Vadim was gone._

_First thing I did was grab Valentine and go to Travis' trailer. He knew where Bull hung out and told us he was coming with, to get his friend back._

_Well how about that. Miles does have a backbone. He can stare at mine and watch it for me though, with Valentine at the rear. I tell him to watch his back and not to think too much. I mean, who the heck'd run the best radio station we got without him? Sheng Kowalski? Ha._

_It's raiders. I knew it. We take out the guards easily. Even Travis takes one down. I get Bull and we find poor Vadim tied up in the office. He says I am "rrreal frriend". Of course._

_So now we're all back safe in the Great Green Jewel. I'm missing the great green-hatted geek. My PIPboy tells me I've a few days left to wait still. Maybe I can help the gumshoe crack just one more case._

* * *  
Vincent didn't have long to wait. Ellie informed him that she'd had a visitor whilst they were out. One Kenji Nakano was looking for his daughter. Yet another 'missing persons' case. Vin managed to sweet-talk Ellie into giving him every last detail. Valentine said he knew the guy and that he expected this to be a tricky case as it started with a long journey, as all the tough ones did.

(Vincent)  
 _The house up to the northeast is secluded, peaceful even, sitting there right on the coastline below the cliffs. I can imagine, for a moment, that its weather-worn aspect is only a result of its appointment, as if the rest of the world isn't battered, broken, faded and peeling away. Sure, the sea air has a tang it never used to, like the whiplash of a mild chili. The caress of wind and shush of waves are gentle though, peaceful, a welcome balm against my sore, battered spirit._

_Valentine knocks a stacatto accompaniment on the red door to the voices within and it opens._

_"Hey, I, uh, hope you don't mind, we let ourselves in," apologises Nick as we step over the threshhold._

_Kenji and Rei Nakano welcome us in and Nick gestures that I should take the lead. I get the picture of their nineteen year old daughter, a young woman just discovering herself and believing that she may, thanks to her radio communications, be a synth like the refugees in this place called Far Harbor. I'm pretty sure the place is_ Bar _Harbor, or was, up in Maine. I vaguely recall we went on vacation there, once, Pop and me._

_Kenji lends us his boat and we arrive at nightfall, to be met with the barrel of a gun and a restraining hand next to it. Alan Lee and Avery, the town leader._

_A wary welcome but a welcome nonetheless. Suddenly the alarm is raised and we're asked to help. No problem, I say, hefting 'The Last Minute', my trusty rifle. We turn left, up some steps, onto the wall they call The Hull._

_Bright, blue-white lamps - no, not lamps, extractors of some kind? - light up the swirling fog. The stuff moves strangely, liquidly. Suddenly we hear noises like overgrown toads. They call 'em 'gulpers'. Huge, wide mouths that are undiscerning when it comes to diet. When the knotted chorus of gulpers lays silent, a lantern bobs through the fog. Nick whispers, "Is that a settler? Injured? Oh! Well, that's new."_

_I feel the tension lock my lungs, or maybe it's this damn fog. If somethin's new to Nick I'm not sure I'm gonna like it._

_The creature's outline is suddenly backlit and a volley of shouts and bullets slows it down. Damn thing's tough. Not a match for a coupla two mils, electromagnetically propelled at super high speed, though. Man, I love this gauss rifle._

_The light dims and fades away and I can suddenly breathe again. I jump down to take a closer look. These things look like they've come straight out of an issue of Manta Man, the one where the Aquarium is hit by pollution-projectiles or whatever it was. These huge, hideous things might have started out as toads. The gulpers, when butchered, reveal telephones and lamps and all kinds o' junk. The green lantern thing, we're told, is an angler; like the deepwater fish I'm guessing. Fuckin' radiation mutations. I can already tell this place is going to a nightmare. Mac'd hate it._

_Valentine pulls me back; I almost got lost thinking about the sharpshooting sniper again. Why is the man on my damn mind so much?_

__Maybe because I care about him. __

_I shove that thought right down. Valentine says Avery wants a word, so we mosey on over. She's grateful for our help, shoves a few caps our way so we can restock our ammunition and supplies, points us toward the Last Plank where we can find a guide to get us to Acadia. I could certainly use a drink._

[*click*]  
So add Detective to my list of titles, officially. Valentine has joked about having to put my name up on the agency sign soon. Honestly, if I had nothing else to do I'd gladly sit in that office drinking Irish coffee, breathing smoke and filing closed cases...but then I wouldn't be with MacCready.

I must have uranium fever or somethin' because I can't stop thinking about the guy. I must be worried about him taking too long in the Capital Wasteland… but I know Brandis has his back. Even Valentine's cigarette smoke has me almost calling him Mac instead of Nick. 

*tiktiktik*

Ahh.. looks like I'm runnin' outta tape. So basically, Old Longfellow got us safely to Acadia and apparently liked us because he invited us to use his cabin anytime, even build a place of our own, plenty o' wood. He only asked for drinkin' partners. We're gonna have to rename the place Whiskeyholm.

We found *tiktik* Kasumi. She's safe but won't go home until we look into what's really goin' on there. Here's the kicker: the leader of Acadia claims to be Valentine's brother. The only other Gen two point five existing. Personally, I don't see *tik* the resemblance. Ok, better tie this up. Valentine's suspicious. Kasumi tells us he's got certain… scenario predictions recorded. Fog encroachment. A huge nuclear blast. So yeah. Maybe I should start wearin' that fedor… [*clacketyclacketyclack*]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a lot of story still to tell and only a few more chapters to do it in, I decided to extend my chapter lengths to about 9k words maximum. 
> 
> Because of this (and needing to do more cross-referencing with Vincent, Redefined) it will be a longer wait between chapters. Remember that you can skip onto the full series anyway and treat these last few episodes as one-offs.
> 
> Oh Vin, he's still Mr. Oblivious about how he feels about Mac although little moments of clarity begin to drip through. 
> 
> If you are enjoying my work, I do have a ko-fi for tips! Toss a few caps here, if you will:
> 
> https://ko-fi.com/theartofblossoming
> 
> As always, do leave comments, questions, suggestions and please point out any smelling pistakes or oversights for me to edit. Thankyou so much for reading!


	22. Holotape V: Thwarted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready travels to the Capital Wasteland to finally bring his son home but he doesn't bet on finding something that he'd never seen there before.
> 
> Vin takes on a job, outside of his Minuteman and Brotherhood duties and sinks deeper into himself.

(MacCready)  
_I'm home. The word feels awkward and ill-fitting even as I think it, like that coat I grew out of. Too tight, constrictive. Like I can't move._

_The Capital Wasteland hasn't changed much. The now Star-Paladin Brandis, in full power-armor, peers out of the open vertibird side. I can't see his face but I can tell by the tilt of his head that he's glad to be here. Me, I'm perched on a barely padded seat, clinging onto the restraining straps with white knuckles as the curve of our flightpath makes my stomach try to persuade me it has contents to show me. I've flown in these things enough times now to avoid putting anything away for at least two hours before. It rumbles a complaint as I follow Brandis' gaze. Man, I wish these things had doors._

_I can see the pentagonal building from here. What is it about five sided castles the old-worlders loved so much? Sure made Vin swear a heck of a lot when he was drawing up those building plans back home._

_There's that word again, 'home'. Why does it feel like a second skin when I'm talking about the Commonwealth? Well, that's a no-brainer,_ Robert _, it's because Vin is there. And Duncan is here. Not for much longer, buddy. Dadda's comin'._

_We finally touch down at The Capital. Paladin Brandis is true to his word, this trip is to fetch Duncan home but we're still Brotherhood Soldiers with orders to follow, first and foremost. Huh. If I could hop in a Time Machine like in that old book Vin lent me and go see my old mayoral self, if I told him I was a Knight-Sergeant of the Brotherhood, he'd tell me to "fuck your tin-plated ass right off," maybe fire a warning shot, too, somewhere that'd make a point of how good a freakin' shot I am. Hell, I wouldn't have believed it a year ago, let alone ten._

_That's what you get for finding someone to believe in. It **changes** you, whether you like it or not. I know Vin wasn't really looking to become Brotherhood either. Heck, he didn't really know who they were when he signed up. He saw a big, badass weapon and picked it up to get to his son. Neither of us saw that plot twist coming. _

_But this isn't some comic book story. This is the real meaning of 'mungo'. Change. Some for better, some for worse. I straighten my uniform as we jump out and walk down the wide path toward The Citadel, pulling the peak of my beloved cap down just a tad. So glad they let me keep my stupid hat._

_I look up at the immense crane still towering above the walls. The Sentrybot at the giant gate rolls back to admit us and I follow Brandis down passageways and stairs until we get to a place he calls the Lyon's Den. Am I nervous? Nope. Not one bit. It's just cold down here is all._

_We finally stand face to face with a woman who could be Preston's angry granny. I try not to stare but she has robot bits! Why doesn't Ingram have robot bits? Kinda cool but also terrifying. Brandis presents me to Star-Paladin Cross and I keep my darn motormouth shut and salute like a good little soldier. Brandis tells her about my part in the defeat of the Institute, that I'm the new Sentinel's right hand man and that, because we are both new to the Brotherhood, I'm under his wing just as Vin is technically under Maxson's. That bit isn't quite true, I think Vin is already Arthur's peer. She commends our actions and they step aside for a private conversation. Brandis says he has a message from the Elder to relay. Thankfully, he isn't long but we have to travel and pick up resources from Rivet City for Madison Li before we can go to my son._

_As we cross the bridge to Rivet City, my hand goes to my chest. The last precious letter I got is still safe in a breast pocket there. Mindy got the Prevent to Little Lamplight in time. Patchup gave it to him. It's working but slowly. The blue boils have gone. He's eating better, getting stronger._

_I didn't have time to send a letter back. I'm the reply, in person. I can't wait to see his face…_

_Brandis tells me to 'Snap to it, son,' and I jerk out of my daydream and start inventory on the crates of laboratory equipment and sealed samples of radiation-free apples and pears that Li and Neriah intend to re-introduce to the Commonwealth. Vin'll be pleased as a punch. I don't get that saying, why would a punch be pleased? Great, I'm starting to sound like my Sentinel, my one-way Time Traveller, now._

_I could have been a Scribe instead of a Knight, Teagan likes to tell me. I've been hauling Vin's junk around for months and I'm good at keeping track, is all. At first, before I really knew him well, it was so I could know how much I could get away with lifting from the stack of valuable gear he was always lugging. Then it was just keeping track of a fair fifty/fifty split. Now I find myself making sure he never runs out of ammo or essentials. That fancy PIP-boy only does a good job of inventory if you remember to look at the darn thing regularly. Me, I just keep it all in my head, nice and safe._

_As several Initiates lug crates out to the waiting 'bird, Brandis informs me that the Lancer sees a storm approaching and wants to wait it out, so we have no choice. We're cutting it close to meet the seven day return deadline as it is, what with all the business Brandis had to take care of at the Citadel._

_An Initiate drops a cannister, which rolls past me toward the stairs. I run after it, hoping it isn't_ explodeable _or something. It rolls to a stop by a blue barrel and as I bend down to pick it up, I see something I never noticed in the Capital Wasteland before._

_A Railsign._

_The chalk isn't even faded or smudged. 'Cache' it says. The Initiate is asking if I caught the cannister, so I yell back and head upstairs. Could be something useful. I make a promise to myself to return later._

_The evening meal rolls around. The makeshift Brotherhood mess hall, an addition since last time I was here with Walker, is rowdy; news of our Commonwealth victory bringing out the slightly drunken singing, the backslapping and cheering. I manage to slink away. The Lancer informs us that weather patterns mean we'll be grounded for at least forty-eight hours, so Brandis gives me leave to enjoy whatever diversions Rivet City has to offer these days and get us some rooms at the hotel while I'm at it._

_I check-in first, deliver their keys then head to the bar. The 'Muddy Rudder' hasn't changed. I limit myself to two beers so I can keep a clear head, change into my old duster, then as sneakily as I can, return to the Railsign._

_I look around the blue barrel, tip it and roll the heavy thing aside. Underneath is a little grate with something glinting beneath. A weapon, some ammo for it and a holotape, marked with a V. Damn. If only I had a PIPboy to play it on. I padfoot around until I find an unguarded terminal and load the tape. It's an audio and some idiot left the terminal volume way up, making me jump. I hit stop, look around to check but after two whole minutes, no-one is approaching. I turn the volume down as low as it goes._

_[Click**crackle**] Watts. Room one eleven. Somebody better pick this up or I'm going dark for good. Geiger and then Blue. Out. [**fzzztt**Clack]_

_Room one eleven and blue. I get a funny, fuzzy feeling as I realise those are both references to Vincent. I mean, Bullseye, as he - well, we as a pair - used to be known. He was the Bull, I was the Eye. Part of me wants to retreat back to the bar and order something stronger but another part is asking what Vin would do. Yeah, what would he normally do, if he wasn't traumatised by taking out the Railroad's head honchos? I didn't like it but I really didn't like them much either, so no skin off my nose. Well, Glory was a kickass bit… doll but Des was dodgy, Tom was nuts, Carrington was just horrible and Deacon was a lying, egotistical dick. Hmm, I'm sure there was one more…_

_Anyway, there was something off about the whole operation. Not that I have a problem with Gen three synths. Well, not anymore. I've met plenty of humans who are way more psycho and suddenly turn nasty *mental cough **Gunners** * If there are Railroad operatives here, maybe I can do what Vin never had a chance to and talk to them. Tell them the Genthrees have got an ally, at least. I know Vin'll do right by them; they're the victims in all this, after all. Well, except for Coursers._

_It's almost one a.m. but I find room one eleven at the hotel. Jeez, I hope I'm not supposed to do a secret knock or some sh..some crap. I settle for three raps. I hear footsteps. A woman's voice asks if I have a geiger counter. I reply that it was in the shop but the shop exploded. I hear her gasp. The door opens a crack, just enough to see a dim light inside. The woman asks what colour suit am I wearing. Oh, I get it! I say 'Blue'. The door opens and a hand grabs my lapel, yanking me inside._

* * *

"Where's the package?" the woman demands. She looks worried, lines creasing her forehead beneath greying hair. Her face reminds MacCready of Star Paladin Cross. They could almost be sisters.

"Package? Oh, no. I came alone. With… um.. with some bad news." Mac's heart was firing on automatic in his chest. He couldn't see anyone else in this small room and the woman wasn't even armed, still it dawned on him that he might have just put himself in unnecessary danger. 

"The… shop…blew up? H.Q. is gone, isn't it? Who did we lose?" the woman asked quietly, her jaw trembling slightly. 

MacCready forced himself to calm down. "What's your handle, anyway?" he asked, putting off the answer.

"If you mean a codename, I don't use one. Prefer not to play games, unlike _some_ people. Watts. Victoria Watts. Let me guess, you must be 'Gunnerboy'?"

 _How the hell does she know Deacon's stupid nickname for me?_ Mac wondered, then realised that it might be safer not to mention the name 'Bullseye'. Who knows what else Watts had heard?

"You've been talking to Deacon, then," he stated, the irritation tightening his throat.

"Yes, recently," she admitted.

"Sorry to say he didn't make it." He wasn't really sorry at all. Deacon had made Vin uncomfortable with his habitual lying, something for which Mac would never forgive him. Even if he _was_ smooth.

"Wha..? But he was just here!" Watts blurted.

 _Was someone trying to imitate him?_ Mac wondered. "Well, lady, I saw him stiff on the floor of the old church back in the 'wealth, along with… D., Dr. C., G., T.T. and the other one." Mac had a brainwave. "If you can tell me their full names, then I'll know I can trust you."

Victoria looked stunned for a moment. "Very well. Desdemona, Doctor Carrington, Glory, Tinker Tom, Drummer Boy."

Mac let out a hiss of recognition. "That's the guy. Okay, look. The Railroad is gone, like the Institute." He blew air through his goatee-framed lips whilst his hand mushroomed. "I'm guessing the 'V' on the holotape stands for Vincent, right? You picked the room number specifically? Blue for vault suit, yeah?" he peppered the questions out, each one hitting its mark. He could tell the surprise attack worked by how high her eyebrows had jumped up.

"Yes. How did you know?"

_Get the killshot ready…._

"Because I'm the Eye on the Bull's right hand."

He watched Victoria's face reflect her dawning realisation and her stance change subtly as she readied to fight . "But he's a traitor!" She threw those words at him with wide, scared eyes. 

Mac spread his hands and used his most calming voice, the one that always drew Duncan back from the edge of a tantrum. "His son is a synth, Victoria. A Gen three _kid_ , the only one the Institute made out of… out of the baby they stole from Vin." It wasn't the whole, horrible truth of the matter but it was enough. Her shoulders sagged. "Yes, he's Brotherhood, we both are but now he's Sentinel, he has a real chance at changing the Brotherhood's stance on the Gen three refugees."

She was obviously listening carefully but shook her head in disbelief. "But Deacon said he led the attack!"

"He did. He had no choice. He had to wipe out H.Q. before he could use the Brotherhood to destroy the Institute and rescue…what was left of his son. The synth copy."

"He's still a traitor!" she shouted in a stage-whisper.

"And he's paying for it!" MacCready shouted back. He couldn't mask the painful empathy that forced its way to the surface. "The man's suffered too much trauma. He watched the Institute's _psycho-lackey_ murder his wife and steal his baby boy! He woke up two centuries after the bombs, he lost _everything_ he knew and he's still **fucking** trying to save the world!" MacCready growled angrily. "He refused to murder his superior officer when it was discovered that he was a Synth and still managed to convince the Elder to spare the man's life. He's an ally but the _fucking Railroad_ won't stop shooting at him long enough for him to let them know that!" 

MacCready stared, wild-eyed and red-cheeked at the startled woman, silently berating himself for having broken his vow twice in the same tirade.

Victoria's gaze was intense now as she searched MacCready's watering eyes. She was the one to speak soothingly now. "That's why you're here." 

"Yeah. I guess it is. I wanted to do what he couldn't, tell you he doesn't want to be your enemy. He just wants synths to get a chance at a decent life. 'Cause they're the victims, too."

Victoria looked behind her for the worn brown armchair and sat. "I can't do much," she sighed. "The network is in tatters." 

"You can send any synths you meet to the Commonwealth. We've just set up an old drive-in as a settlement. Starlight. They could go there and we'll do what we can."

She shook her head as it all sunk in. "An android child… how could they... How about the memory-wiping, though?"

"No. The Sentinel's against that. They get to stay who they are, got it? The Institute's gone, anyway."

"Understood.…and Gunn…"

"Don't ever call me that," he cut in. It's Mac. Knight-Sergeant Major MacCready of the Minutemen of Steel. 

Victoria took a moment to digest the long title. MacCready could almost hear mental brakes squealing as her perspective did a U-turn.

"MacCready, sir? Be safe. Tell the Sentinel he has a friend, here in room one-eleven." She took a shaky breath. "I'll talk to my friends at The Temple of the Union but I can't reach anyone in the Commonwealth right now. Deacon is.. or was.. the only one who could get solid intel there."

"Well, just remember that Synths have an ally in the Sentinel, alright, Victoria Watts? That is, unless they turn raider or something stupid. Play nice or get a taste of Commonwealth Justice, got that?"

"Loud and clear." There was an awkward silence as the rocky momentum of the conversation slowed into its centre once more. "Put the holo back in the dead drop for me on your way back? I'm still expecting a pac.. person to show up."

Mac touched the peak of his cap with a nod and left.

* * *  
_I can see the landing spot. It won't take but twenty minutes to reach the caverns from there. I can hardly believe it, I get to see my boy again! I'm in my familiar duster again. The orange pyjamas would just spook the kids. Everyone in Little Lamplight knows to steer clear of the BoSsy hoods._

_I approach the gate, cocky. They know me. They know my reputation. The new mayor Nellie Newton is just like me but a girl version. Complete with rancid pottymouth-itis._

"Put yer fuckin' peashooter on the ground, mungo-dungo and step over three paces!" 

"Mayor Newt! It's me! How's the helmet sitting on that head o' straw?"

"Just fine since your fat head had to leave it behind, stinkrat."

"Hey, I'm no rat! Lemme in, I'm here to take Duncan home."

"Nope."

"What?"

"No can do-do, fartface."

"Fart-face? Seriously? That the best you got?"

"How about 'mungo dick-cheese orange-peeler'? Yeah, we know you came in a flirty-bird. We got eyes all over, swiper. You with them big bossyboots? Maybe its better if we forget the caps and just keep Duncan-donut with us?"

MacCready actually sank to his knees. "That wasn't the deal, Newt! Please, I need my son!"

"Deal was, if I recall righty-o, that we give him back when he's better an' you give us the caps. Well, little boy blue isn't lookin' like he lost a fight with a mutfruit anymore but he sure as shitfarts isn't better yet. He's all wobbly."

"That's fine, I can take care of him now! I got a safe place to go!"

"Nope. He's ours. You're not gonna make him into a Brotherhood Skewer, make him do cleanin' an' learnin' an' cookin' all day. Sounds too much like slavin' to us, don't it?"

A hidden chorus of kids all backed up the scruffy, blonde-haired, shrewd looking girl just visible at the top of the gatepost. 

"You mean Squire? Heck no. He'd be free and safe with me, his _Dad_ "

"Zat Dadda?" came a little voice.

Newt groaned. "Oh crapnuggets. Alright Dunc, you can say hi but Daddy's gotta go home now and come back later with **double the caps** , got it? An' this - hey Bricks, give us that list - this list of supplies."

A scrap of paper fluttered to the floor at his feet. He picked it up and read the meagre demands, remembering when some of these items seemed like luxuries. 

"Sure. Hey, fire in the cakehole!" He tossed the two packs of gumdrops from his pocket over the gate and heard the scrabbling as he came right up to the wooden barrier. 

"Hey, Duncan?"

"Dadda! I'm… oof! I fell over again. My 'pots have run away Dadda." 

"Good! Good! Duncan, buddy? Newt says you gotta get well before I can take you home okay? I'll come back, brave boy. You just hang in there."

"No Dadda, I hang on a rope and the light went off. Patchup shouted."

Mac pushed a laugh through the threatening tears.

"I just mean wait, alright?"

"Am you gonna bring your friend? The big hero guy?"

"Vin? I might just do that, buddy, yeah."

"Alright smooshyface, quit it. Visitin' time's over. Double, remember? An' all those supplies. Come on squirt. Back to bed you rickety radstag."

"Dadda'll be back, Duncan! Eat your veggies! Love you, son!"

"Mushy fuckin' mungos. Now beat it before I tickle yer butt with lead!"

"Yeah. Nice to see you, too, Newt." Mac walked a few paces toward the exit before mumbling, "Brahmin-breath" just loud enough for the Mayor to hear.

_I pick up my rifle as Newt's laugh echoes around. 'Dissappointed' doesn't cut it. I just had to leave my son for the second time. Feels like I ripped a scab off my heart. At least I heard him. I don't think about how long it has been since I heard that precious little voice and dare not think about how much longer I'll have to wait to hear it again._

_I get it, though. I see their point of view with crystal clarity. They're just lookin' after one of their own - heh, and bargaining for more caps to boot. That Newt is a Mayor after my own heart. She's gonna make a kickass mungo one day. He did sound a bit weak, though. Maybe it is best I don't make him travel just yet. Sorry Lucy Angel, but our little boy'll be safe there. I'll come back as soon as I can. I promise._

_I get back to the Vertibird and blub all over Brandis as it preps for take-off. He says nothing, just nods, gives me a power-armed hug and a couple of sympathetic pats. I just know he was a parent, once. I'm still not gonna ask because I know the answer would hurt._

* * *  
A green dome bulb lit up next to the letter C on the flight deck control panel, signalling the Vertibird's arrival. The Lancer in charge of that particular panel turned to another stoic fixture of the bridge: Lancer-Captain Kells. "Sir, Paladin Brandis and Knight-Sergeant MacCready have just docked."

"Thankyou," he enunciated clearly in a voice that hinted at the potential of warmth but nonetheless kept a cool, even keel. "Get Brandis here for a debriefing; MacCready is booked for leave, whether or not his mission was successful." 

"Yessir."

Kells secretly hoped that he wouldn't bring his Wasteland child aboard the Prydwen. He'd made sure that Cade insisted on the quarantine, having ordered the door guard to only admit the new Knight-Sergeant into the hull on the condition that the boy wasn't with him. Neither Quinlan nor Neriah had had enough information about the 'Blue Boil Plague' to make any assurances, aside from similar records, one found at the edge of the Capital Wasteland and one originating from somewhere in Appalachia, of certain experimental chemical crop spray solutions. As it was, Kells did not even allow himself a twinge of curious empathy as to why young Duncan MacCready wasn't present. _Steel doesn't feel_ he reprimanded himself as he once more shunned the memory of a little girl's tearful smile.

(MacCready)  
_I walk into the power armor bay, looking for Vin. I feel invisible again. Everyone around me is busy with their duties. Brandis was the only one beside the Lancer-Captain, Elder and Sentinel, of course, that knew why I went all the way to the Capital Wasteland. It might be easier if there were a few pitying looks thrown my solitary way but no-one except Vin is really expecting to see Duncan. Except that he looks busy, too._

Vincent strutted up to Proctor Ingram, lifting not one but three cans of reactor coolant with outstretched arms, a wry grin on his face, his head tilted victoriously. Ingram gave him a suitably impressed expression, obviously eyeing the way his muscles rippled under that form-hugging orange jumpsuit. 

MacCready huffed and rolled his eyes. Didn't the guy even realise he was flirting? Ingram certainly did, he could tell by the way the woman lost all her sharp angles and practically melted into that rig of hers and wobbled around like… like… jellyo or whatever Vin had called that mound of seethrough pink stuff in that half-burnt magazine. Well, now they were talking in Engineerese so Mac couldn't understand half of what they said but Mister Oblivious was still not catching the subtext. That bit of his brain, MacCready rationalised, must not be fully thawed out yet.

The Proctor parted ways and headed towards Mac, who ducked around behind a strut and did not miss Ingram's quiet, muttered exclamation to herself:

"Whoo! I think I'm gonna need some coolant in my rig now!"

He had to admit that he knew exactly how she felt. The orange jumpsuits were almost as bad as the blue ones. They hid next to nothing.

"There you are, Mac!" Vin's cocky grin was only emphasised by the equally cocky ginger bikers' 'stache. Mac felt his knees turn to 'jellyo' but he tried to echo the stiff postures held all around. 

"Sentinel, Sir!"

Vincent's gaze dropped down. "No little buddy?"

MacCready was all too aware of many pairs of ears nearby that might be evesdropping on his personal life. "No. He's… not well enough to travel yet, Sir."

Sentinel Hudson softened into 'just Vin' and gave him a brief look of sympathetic disappointment.

"At ease, soldier. We're both officially on leave now." Vin leaned in so close that his whiskers tickled Mac's ear. "Ready for some downtime in Goodneighbor?"

"Am I!" he exclaimed. "I'd kill for a drink… come to think of it, I have…" the ex-mercenary reflected. It wasn't alcohol, it was just a caseload of purified water as payment for taking out a raider boss's henchman but the statement rang true. Still, he could really murder a Gwinett Pale or two right about now, maybe followed by a Dirty Warhead.

The two flew down to the Boston Airport base where they changed out of uniform and into what Vin kept calling 'civvies'. Mac felt ambivalent about his old duster. On the one hand it was comfortable and familiar, on the other, compared to his Brotherhood fatigues, it was tatty. He missed having all those pockets; mind you, the duster and trousers still had quite a few and much less obvious ones at that.

Vin emerged from the tiny, concrete bunkroom wearing his armoured greaser jacket, jeans and a militia hat. Mac had to fight the urge to flirt with Vin himself as he almost came out with "Well, hello there cowboy," but stopped himself after 'well' and rerouted his sentence into an awkward, "Well, hey, uh.. let's get this show on the road."

It was the usual cautious but easy journey. Only one new raider gang had taken up where the one they defeated last month had been and these psychos were even greener. Vin was quiet and Mac didn't like it when the guy went practically mute.

"Hey, so… how's Dan?"

" 'Diesel Dan' is doing alright. He's way up north with Valentine, helping a friend build a settlement. Nick and I are working on a case. You can't get to the place but by boat. You'd probably hate it."

"You know me. Can't stand getting wet. Except my whistle. Get it?"

"Huh. Yeah, I need to wet mine, too. A double whiskey should do it." 

"Ever had a Nuka Bombdrop or a Dirty Warhead?"

"Sounds like cocktail hour got deadly."

"Only if you have _two_."

* * *

As it turned out, Whitechapel Charlie's selection was a little restrictive; he certainly didn't have the ingredients for either cocktail and suggested that if they wanted fancy, they try the "sodding Colonial Tramphouse" in Diamond City's upper stands. Mac and Vin laughed dutifully at that and settled for whiskey and beer.

The Rexford was almost full but somehow their usual room was free. The floorboards creaked a familiar greeting as Vin unlocked the door. They both piled in, slightly unsteadily. Vin's double whiskey had turned into a quadruple, spaced out with a Nuka cola and half of one of MacCready's beers.

Vin still carried the pungent-sweet fragrance of cigar smoke in his hair, Mac discovered, as the big drunk lurched backwards into him when he walked into the doorframe. Mac just shook his head and slurred the word 'lightweight' under his hoppy breath. He threw his pack into the room and headed to the lumpy, rat-eaten couch.

"Don't be a dick, 'Cready, jus' use the bed," came Vin's rumble, just before the muffled crash of his defeat versus consciousness.

MacCready shed his boots, binoculars and rifle, stashing them under the bed. He had to clamber in from the foot end to claim the vacant space between Vincent and the wall but was glad of the firm and decidedly less-lumpy mattress. He stretched out, appreciating the human heater next to him. Even if Vin _was_ snoring.

* * *  
"NnnnORA!"

Mac woke with a start and flailed around for his rifle. He felt movement next to him as he awoke enough to recall that _they_ were safe and _it_ was safely under the bed.

Vincent had turned to sit, his feet on the floor, shoulders hunched and shuddering now and then. It took a couple of seconds for Mac to realise that his friend was crying; for his brain to tell him what the sounds that had woken them both up meant. He wondered if he'd ever woken Vin up by shouting his dead wife's name in his sleep. If he ever had, Vin hadn't brought attention to it. He scooted over to place his own feet on the floor and cautiously wrap an arm over those broad, now rounded shoulders. He wished he'd had someone there to do the same for him in that first year afterward. Vin didn't speak. He just leaned very slightly into Mac's embrace.

Then the moment was gone. He stood abruptly, wiped his eyes and gathered his kit together, so - still wordlessly - MacCready did the same. 

Breakfast was a D.I.Y. affair at the communal pot outside the Rexford. Vincent cooked mirelurk for himself but offered Mac some molerat instead, which he gladly scoffed down.

"I got us a job last night," Vincent finally said. "On the quiet. Follow my lead."

Mac relaxed as they slid into an alleyway. This was familiar territory and knowing Vin, it was probably going to be fun.

The peephole in the door slicked open. Mac kept an eye out as Vincent bartered the notorious Bobbi Nanowski up from one to two hundred caps. MacCready only knew that name because Daisy had told him. Everyone just called her Bobbi No-nose these days. They also knew how tight she usually was with her pay. Mac mused that Vin's lush moustache must have magical persuasive powers. He started daydreaming about what it might be like to place a kiss beneath it when Vin coughed loudly. 

"Sorry, boss. Comin'." 

The job had an entreé of mirelurk, followed by a long wait at Diamond City whilst the day's specialist stewed in a jailcell overnight. Vin could have bribed a guard or hacked the dodgy Protectron but after finding out the minor charge the guy was in for, he decided it best to kick back at Homeplate overnight and meet Mel in the morning to get on with the main course. Mac was a little disappointed to take the boring solution but a little thrill ran through him at the thought of raiding fatcat Mayor McDonough's strongroom. As for the dessert well, that would turn out to be just.

"Wanna try out that Colonial Taphouse, Mac?" Vin asked.

"Only if you're determined to meet Codsworth's evil twin." Vin actually guffawed at that. "Me, I'd prefer to wake up with a clear head for the job."

"You, turn down a drink? I'm shocked!" Vin teased.

"Call it a gut feeling. You do whatever you want, though boss," the sniper replied flatly.

Vincent stroked that moustache of his thoughtfully. "Reckon I'll follow your lead then, sober," he agreed. Mac was quietly relieved.

The next day they met the red-haired Mel outside the security office, persuaded him to take the job and agreed to meet later under Bobbi's place. 

* * *

The pair arrived at the mouth of the big dig and could hear Bobbi and Mel talking a little deeper in.

"He takes orders and he's useful in a fight. What more could I want?" asked a woman's gravelly, self-assured voice.

"And he's not so bad to look at, either," Mel replied. MacCready had to check who the ginger was referring to. _Another score for the mustache._ "Maybe we don't burn bridges this time, yeah?" _Has Vin picked up on that? The guy's smiling right at him. Nope. Oblivious. Geez, Vin, that's like your superpower. Impervious to flirtation. You must have a weakness, I mean, you were *married* for Grognak's sake._

"Hey! I said 'are you ready'?" Vin shouted, a little aggressively.

"Sorry, boss. Yeah," Mac readied his rifle.

"Well, let's hope you wake up and smell the gunpowder, sonny-whatever-yer-name-is," Bobbi drawled.

 _Is it possible that *the* Bobbi No-Nose is the only person in Goodneighbor who hasn't heard of me?_ MacCready wondered. Well, she had been hiding away here, keeping a very low profile. This job was the first Mac had even seen of her, though Daisy had warned him not to accept any work from her. Well, technically, he hadn't. He was working for the Vault Dweller. He really had better get his head in the game, though.

Mac glanced over at Mel who was showing off the modified Eyebot he called 'Sonya' and nerding out over Vin's PIPboy.

 _Ginger gadget man, you'd better keep those freckled mitts off my guy_ Mac thought to himself. Mel must have been stung by Mac's jealous glare because he suddenly turned away and got on with his job.

They followed the tunnel, Vin using his engineering know-how to spot possible weak walls for Sonya to blast. Mel was doubting the route as they ploughed through mirelurks and…

"Ferals. Why'd it have to be ferals again?" Mac's shots were deadly accurate, as always but Vin noticed the pallor of his complexion, the tension in his voice and that bit of extra effort it took Mac to face them. To face his trauma and his fear. He patted the younger man's shoulder with a big paw and moved on ahead.

Finally, they broke up through a floor into an old store room. When they went through the door and up concrete stairs, a woman's voice sparked up. Hearing her, Mac's face turned into an angry scowl.

"Hancock's warehouse? You gotta be freakin' kidding me! No way am I doing this." _Shoulda listened to Daisy._

Mel agreed with Mac, pointing out that Hancock tended to hold grudges. _Violently_. Vin heard everyone out before subtly shifting his trigger finger. Only Mac noticed.

"You lied to us, Bobbi. You have to pay," he pronounced darkly. It was over in moments. The ghoul lay in her own blood, a long overdue demise.  
Farenheit sang a raspy note of approval. 

"You have to know you guys weren't exactly silent down there."

"Sorry to cause you trouble," Vin apologised.

_Such a gentleman. Shoot, Mac. Point that flirt away._

"The boss will understand. You didn't know what you were doing." Hancock's right-hand woman reached down behind a crate. "Here, take this. A token, for doing the right thing." Vin hefted the enormous gatling cannon. Mac saw him strain a little under the weight of both that and Furious Justice, the gatling laser he'd been hefting around the tunnels. "Hancock will be happy to hear about your loyalty."

"We'll go and tell him ourselves, hotness," Mac said cockily.

"Call me that one more time, Longshot and you'll get burned."

"Sorry, Fahrenheit. I forgot."

Vin had to make an effort to make his eyebrows touch down after that exchange but managed it before Mac noticed. Mel patted down the ghoul's body and retrieved his pay, handing Vin his bag of caps, who commisserated about the loss of the robot. Mel tried one last flirt, hoping to see Vin at a bar sometime but something told Mac that the robotics engineer wouldn't be welcome at the Third Rail or the Dugout for quite some time. What MacCready didn't notice was the sly and practiced way Vin popped a Buffout after that.

* * *  
(MacCready)

_So the Mayor has itchy feet. I don't blame him. Goodneighbor's a great place for staying in just the right kind of trouble but even this place gets a little samey after a while._

_The way Hancock looks at Vin, like too many people are looking at him lately… I can't take it anymore. He can't be_ that _oblivious, surely? Maybe he really is just straight. Or just plain not interested. Maybe his balls cracked off from the cryostasis. Maybe…_

_Maybe he's still in love with Nora._

_It took me a long time to let Lucy go. No, that's not quite true. I'll never really let you leave my heart, Lu-lu. Gotta save something of Mamma for Duncan._

_I am ready to move on though. Can't stand being alone. There's only one person I want to be not-alone with though and I'm_ fucking _angry with him. Again. When I get to Sanctuary, I've decided, I'm gonna be the dad to Shaun that Vin isn't being right now because I can't get to my own son and mister Sentinel General is too busy looking after **everybody** else except his own second-chance-son. _Nobody _gets a second chance at this stuff. NO-ONE. And he's THROWING IT AWAY._

_"EEUUAARGGHHH!" SHUT UP! *bang*._

* * *  
Vin fumbled a holotape into the cassette deck and pressed Rec.

[*click*] I'm addicted again. Fuckit. This time, I don't care. There's no Chem Addicts Anonymous Natick anymore. 'Hi, I'm Vin and I CAAN quit.' *long sigh* Yeah. I can quit pretending that I'm coping. I can quit pretending I'm a real _Father_ 'cause he's not a real fucking boy anyway. He's not. Not my baby boy. No, he _died_.  
…[hissss]  
At least he had a life, even if it was an utter clustermine fraggin' mess-up of other people's lives. No, this time I'm gonna take somethin' if I need it. Hancock has no problem with that. I'm sick of Mac's little sideways disapproving frowns. Let him play Geppetto with the kid, since he can't have his own son around. I'm gonna ask Hancock to teach me how to make Bufftats. Note to self, make sure he knows not to let Psycho based chems anywhere near me. I may be messed up but at least I still wanna keep breathing. There's too much needs doing, still.

*sound of a drink being poured*  
[*click*]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my pal @the-last-huntsman over on Tumblr who, unlike myself, has actually played Fallout 3 and helped me to find references to help with the beginning of the story.
> 
> If you think Mayor Newt is a reference to Aliens, you'd be right!
> 
> With four letters left to go in this series and the whole of Nuka World and most of Far Harbor still to replay, expect the last chapters to be long ones! I'll be taking my time with this over the holiday season and New Year. 
> 
> As always, do leave Comments if you leave Kudos. Tell me how this story makes you feel, if the mixed styles do what they are meant to and move your perspective around. I do hope you're staying strapped in to this rollercoaster ride! 
> 
> You can see screenshots from my gameplay on Tumblr @theartofblossoming
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> P.S. Sorry / not sorry for all the swearing. I avoid it like Mac in my everyday life and my own kiddo (12) got frustrated with me the other day, asking why I couldn't say anything but 'flibble' (a Red Dwarf reference). I proved that I can, in the right circumstances, use the 'F' word. It's much easier to write than say... ;)


	23. Holotape W - Chemistry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent hooks up with Hancock. Running away seems like a good option but inner conflict is a sneaky stowaway.
> 
> MacCready becomes increasingly frustrated with his best friend and commanding officer.
> 
> Piper tags along and tries to medicate Vin with gumdrops. ;)

_Preston has word of another potential settlement, place way south of Sanctuary called "Sunshine Tidings". The name is vaguely familiar, some holiday cabin camp or something. Might even have stayed there once with Pop and Vonnie, when we were kids. Vaughn's own father never used to have time to take his son anywhere. Pop used to make sure we got out of the city a couple times a year. I loved our camping trips. That one time the weather was terrible, he still didn't cancel, we just rented a cabin instead. Yeah, could've been Sunshine Tidings._

_It always jars me when I find something I knew from my old life. The place hasn't changed much except for one extra building, a barn, right in the centre, complete with a zoned out Mr. Handy. Someone scrawled a Save the Robots sign on the side. I really can't tell if that was done pre- or just post-war. Yeah, I'll save the robots... as long as they aren't shooting at me. Codsworth sure saved me, back in October. October twenty-third. The two hundred and ten year anniversary of the Great War. Huh. 'Father' had a sick sense of humour to have woken me up on that date… but I can't think of him right now. Can't even use the name we gave him. I need to hit something._

_Luckily, my therapy comes crawlin' outta the woodwork. Hancock helps me dispatch the ferals. Man, he's lightning-quick. Just as good with a gun as with that knife o' his. Our faces both light up when we find a functional chemistry station in that barn. I don't have the components to build a settler beacon straight away but we do some clearing, sort the junk out, deconstruct some crates and palettes and pile up the old planks ready to re-use. I get a mutfruit or two, some corn and a tato planted, get the old pump working and salvage a couple of bed frames._

_Hancock helps but he's not really the manual labor type. It starts getting dark, so I down tools._

Ancient red sleeves stretch out toward Vin, the rad-weathered hands hidden under their steaming burden. "Here, I cooked up a stew. Nothing fancy but it'll fill our bellies. How about after we've eaten, I show you how to cook up somethin' a little more fun, huh?" Hancock grinned through the delicious vapour, his tricorn tipping toward the chemistry station.

Vin 'hmmed' in appreciation of the meal and the idea. "Absolutely. No Psycho, though, ever. The army fed it to a few of us. Almost died of anaphylactic shock."

Those dark eyes made near-perfect circles. "Shit, man." Hancock had actually known a gal who had died from just one dose of the stuff. Doc Weathers had said it was an allergic reaction. He'd seen it; it was a rough way to go.

"Yeah. 'Combat enhancers' they called 'em. They were already micro-dosing our rations with Buffout, so when they put me on a full dose, I got hooked. Had a rough time quittin' too. Nora wouldn't start a family until I got clean." Vin stuffed a spoonful of stew into his mouth, swallowed half and mumbled, "Not really sure I should've bothered, now," around the chewed radstag. Vin pulled two bottles of Buffout from his pack as he swallowed. "Well, no reason to be squeaky anymore. So what recipe we cookin' up, Hancock?"

Those wide dark eyes had turned to slits. The ghoul missed a beat before answering, as Vincent's comment had been a one-two punch to the chest and he'd just been weighing up whether or not to throw his hat into the ring and bring up the subject of Shaun. Something about Vin's stance warned him off that confrontation, so he stayed on familiar ground.

"Nice. Well, what flavors of high've you tried?"

"Jet, Mentats - I'm pretty smart," Vin almost whined as if someone had told him he was _'just a stupid jock',_ "…like Engineering degree smart but I couldn't have figured out that Signal Interceptor without Mentats." Hancock found no signs of boasting, no puffed out chest nor self-satisfied smirk with this statement. In this mongrel-eat-mongrel world, that was a pretty rare trait. 

Vin continued, "Orange or grape are fine, berry messes with my eyes, though. Oh, Daytrippeeer!" he grinned, elongating the word with a grin. "Always did like that one. Not in combat though," he smirked.

"Alrighty then," Hancock purred. "Listen up, cookery student. Today we'll be making Bufftats and Buffjet. You'll _really_ like those."

Midnight came and went, as did the inevitable midnight snack. Professor Goodfeels floated around with an occassional "Whoah, man!", "Groovy" or "Far Out". Vin wondered if the 'bot could be made to be useful but he was feeling too zonked himself to do anything about it.

Morning unveiled itself lazily from beneath a blanket of grey cloud. Vin stirred from the grubby sleeping bag he never would have climbed into had he been sober last night and dusted himself off with a grimace. Hancock reappeared from around the barn door, re-adjusting the flag cumberband around his waist. "Well, good morning tidings, Sunshine!" he said cheerily.

"That's _Vincent_ , to you, Zombieking."

"Well, look who's grumpy in the morning." That earned a deeper scowl from the General. "Sorry, too familiar? I'll back off," said the ghoul with jarring sincerity.

Vin stared for a split-second, then bent and retied his bootlaces, wordlessly.

"So what's next, General?"

Vin checked his PIPboy. "We hunt down some components to build a beacon, then go to the Castle, report back to Garvey, see if he has anything else for us."

"Hmm. I heard a rumour there's tunnels near here, by a lonely chapel. Raiders living like molerats underground. Wanna see if we can flush 'em out and reduce the bastards to components?" Hancock's eager gaze and slow-spreading grin did nothing to help Vin stop scowling.

"I was talking about circuitry and wires, maybe an old first aid tin to make a switch box out of but yeah." A sharp intake of breath, the scowl furrowed deeper. "Oh, hold up." He read an alert from his Personal Information Processor. "Shit. _Fuckers._ The Abernathys just reported a kidnapping. Hotfoot it." He slung his pack and grabbed his sniper rifle and shotgun from where they leaned against a crate and ran north, Hancock close on his heels.

* * *

The Radio Signal Alert brought up a Nuka-Cola Family Radio advert as they travelled. Vincent gave it a few seconds thought and switched it off. Before long, the repurposed pylon could be seen on the horizon, the wooden shack that had been built around it stood a little taller, the fields busier, more expansive.

"Someone's been busy," remarked Hancock. "I thought this place was all _Little House on the Prairie?_ "

"You read?"

"Well, I was made to. In school, like they do."

"You _went to school_? Oh: ghoul. 'Course, you must've done." Vin reasoned with himself. Before Hancock could decide whether or not he wanted to reveal his actual young-ish age, Blake and Connie Abernathy came jogging toward them.

"Oh, General Hudson, are we ever glad to see you! You gotta help us. They kidnapped our Lucy!" Blake pleaded. 

"I can't lose another child, and we can't afford the ransom!" Connie added, distraught. Blake put his arm around his wife's shoulders, pulling her close.

Hancock tipped his tricorn up a little by way of a greeting. "We'll bring her home. They ain't gonna see a single cap, don'tcha worry," Hancock reassurred her.

Vin put warm hands on both their shoulders briefly and asked, "Any idea where they took her?"

Blake pulled in a ragged breath and said, "South, just past the little church, they said. Some place with a bunker. They were boasting how they'd dug in deep and had it made. Hurry, please!"

* * *  
They crept up to the old Federal Ration Stockpile with the dusk. Searchlights blinked on around the compound as Vincent crawled closer to the long, seafoam-green trailer. The concrete pillbox that had once stood as lone sentry beside the bunker entrance was now surrounded with makeshift shacks, gun turrets and tall scaffolding poles bearing red, triangular tarpaulins that made the raiders look exactly like the landlocked pirates they were.

Vin pulled out _Longshot_ , his sniper rifle. He briefly wished that the hat bobbing in his peripheral vision was an eight-point utility cap rather than the ancient, weathered tricorn but snapped his focus back to his targets with the hardened discipline of the soldier he'd been moulded into, even as his artistic eye registered the tragic beauty of the sunset; a reddish slash through purpled clouds.

He took out a searchlight, silently. A raider wandered toward it - and his sights - lackadaisically, probably annoyed to have to change the bulb. The raider's light soon went out too and at that point, the turrets started firing.

Hancock took out one of the chugging bullet-spitters and the two heard distant shouts of alarm and suddenly, disturbingly close, the hiss of pistons as a power armour frame opened up. Vin glanced about, his one-sided hearing not being able to pinpoint the source of the sound but Hancock motioned that it was coming from inside the trailer. Vin swapped to his shotgun and leapt up onto the trailer board, already firing at the raider as he mechanically enrobed. The suit's armour plating was incomplete and the nameless man died for wont of a helmet. 

Hancock gave covering fire as Vin checked the suit over. "You gettin' in those fancypants?" the ghoul shouted.

Vin shook his head in disappointment. "Can't. It's whockerjawed." His Pop used to say that, he recalled.

A bullet ricocheted off a metal pole and Hancock dashed to the other side. "What now?" 

"Busted." Vin picked off another opportunistic raider who mistakenly peeked above a shack railing. He hunkered down, Hancock mirroring his gait and the two advanced toward the main bunker.

When they gained entry to the stockpile, it didn't take much more ammunition to clear the tunnels, despite the obviously more experienced raiders being dug in deep. They found Lucy Abernathy on her knees, gagged and bound and glaring daggers at the last raider as Hancock slipped from the shadows and drew his blade across the slight figure's throat. 

"Oh, thank goodness! General Hudson and… Mayor Hancock?"

"Lu, I told ya to just call me Vin. We're practically neighbors."

"Pretty good neighbors, I'm guessin'?" Hancock chuckled. "Yeah, sister, that I am."

"Let's get outta here and redistribute some o' these supplies, huh?" Vin suggested, scooping a large green canvas bag off the floor and checking it for holes. Lucy didn't hesitate to do the same, emptying shelves of dry goods, purified water and cans of Cram. Hancock rummaged around, pocketing chems and booze and the lighter foods such as Blamco Mac'n'Cheese.

Vin glanced at his PIPboy and motioned them to follow, gun out ready. He disappeared around a corner. Lucy and Hancock heard shots, then rummaging sounds. Hancock heard the familiar rattle and pop of a Buffout bottle, which prompted him to pop one himself so that he gained the strength to pick up a promising-looking automatic rifle.

"Hey look, just what we needed!" called Vin triumphantly, holding up an old metal first-aid box, some circuit boards and a spool of electrical wire.

They emerged from the floor in the Lonely Chapel and made the short journey to Abernathy Farm. Blake and Connie were overwhelmed to have their daughter back, compensated the Sentinel-General generously and smiled nervously at the Mayor.

Back at Sunshine Tidings, after a short sleep, it took next to no time for Vincent to assemble a settler beacon. He even painted the switchbox blue. "Not Minutemen Cobalt blue," he said wistfully, remembering the large set of oilpaints that Nora had given him for his thirtieth birthday, "but it'll do."

They left the place empty, beacon sending its settler summons. It was guarded by a turret that Vin somehow cobbled together out of spare parts, most of which had come up from the tunnels. Hancock had to wonder if the man was part Brahmin with the amount of salvage he'd carried back with them. 

The journey to the Castle was long but uneventful, if you don't count a few ferals, molerats, three supermutants and an unlucky posse of raiders.   
The tall, patched walls of Fort Independence gave Hancock pause as they wandered up the narrow, wave-licked path. "Damn. This the same place?"

"You been here before?"

"Once. Didn't go in, though. I was hopin' to find a nice sword but the place was swarming with…"

"Mirelurks. We know." 

"I was gonna say 'monsterfish', but yeah. I gather you took out one bloodthirsty behemoth of a crab-queen?"

"An' I used to have to go to a movie theatre to get thrills like that…" Vin joked sourly.

They passed through the small, well defended wall gate to be faced by a new concrete wall that forced them left, up a staircase and into the open. Vin himself had designed the bottleneck that would give visitors a remarkable view of the courtyard and Minutemen a clear shot at invaders. 

Hancock would have whistled had he still the lips to do so. "Now that's what I call a Castle!" The radio was now sheltered in its own concrete hub, the roof of which acted as a central junction for the five walkways that reached out like spokes to the hexagonal walls. The main road was overlooked by repurposed train wagons, blue of course, whilst beneath them the main breach had been solidly sealed with a narrow powered door leading through to a second, interior wall and door. 

On each point of the wall sat a huge artillery cannon. Between them, guard posts and laser canons stood ready.

As the two made their way down a second staircase to the interior, Vin pretended not to hear 'General' the first time it was called. He needed a drink.

"General!" Garvey called again, just before they had reached the archway that led to The Mess. Vin sighed but turned. "Hey, Preston. We cleared that old holiday cabin spot you sent me to, set up a beacon." 

"Alright, I mean, great but did you find Lu... Miss Abernathy?"

"We did. Federal Ration Stockpile. If we had enough men I'd say we claim the place before the next roving raider band sets up home there. It's all clear now but we should keep an eye on it."

"Couldn't the Bro…"

"No. They're stretched thin, too. I don't know where we'll get the hands but we need more trained militiamen."

Hancock waved a hand in a cocksure fashion. "People are like jetsam, they wash up every day. With those squawky new beacons, they'll be on your doorstep by the dozens before ya know it." He turned to Preston. "Well I _was_ gonna ask you what's going ta keep the Minutemen from falling apart this time but I think I just walked in with my answer."

"How about we just start with 'Hello', Mayor Hancock?" Preston suggested, a tired edge to his voice.

"Colonel, Mayor, how 'bout we _start_ with a beer?" diffused Vin. He opened both arms and scooped his friends toward the bar.

* * *  
Vin spent the first beer filling Preston in on all the settlement news he'd gathered. He relayed lists of materials that they were running short of, filled a whole blank holotape with notes on each location, its population, state of repair and farming capacity along with updated provisioner routes and handed it over to his Colonel. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, shared news of losses and illness and of the Finch family's reunion and by the time the empty bottle hit the table, was feeling every weighty ounce of his responsibilities. Hancock, who had been silent throughout, got up and ordered three more beers.

"You're looking tired, my friend," Preston observed.

"Oh, believe me, the outside only shows the tip o' the iceberg," the General admitted. "Don't think I'm all thawed out yet, either" he added quietly.

"You should take some time, sir. We have enough recruits now to keep things moving in the right direction. Ronnie's doing a stirling job of whipping them into shape."

"I don't doubt it."

Preston turned to Hancock. "We could use someone like you, John."

"A _ghoul_ , ya mean?"

"Well, you're not wrong there but that's not all I meant. I know some folks that have a hard time listening to us 'smoothskins'. I'd really like to integrate ghouls back into general settlements; I've said as much to Wiseman. Some of his people would give it a go if they had assurances and, well, you have a way with handling the more… challenging folk."

Hancock's hairless eyebrow lifted a smirk as if puppeteering it.

"Colonel! Lieutenant Saxon requires your presence at the radio," called a young woman in leather armour and Preston excused himself with a shrug.

Hancock pushed the unopened beer toward him as he rose. "I hear ya. My answer is the same as last time. Save this for later, Garvey."

"No, man. I think the General needs that more than I do. Sir," he saluted Vincent and left.

"He's not wrong," sighed Vin, grabbing the bottle in his large paw and popping it open. 

Hancock tilted his head to one side, studying Vin with those dark, expressive eyes for a moment. "To think I had my doubts," he muttered.

"Huh?

"You looked like you'd fallen out of the vault that day. I thought I'd see you pickin' your teeth out of the gutter by sunup."

"Yeah. I must have circled Goodneighbor twice before I walked through your door. An' I was aiming for Diamond City."

Hancock let out a rasping chuckle at that. "I'd say your inner compass led you true, friend." He swigged beer and picked at the label. "It's just real rare these days, find someone who's not just willing to take things the way they're handed to them. Too many good folks not willing to get their hands dirty and too many assholes taking advantage of it."

The Mayor of Goodneighbor had already filled Vin in on how he had ousted Vic, the previous self-proclaimed boss of Scollay Square and advantage-taker extraordinaire. Hancock flung out his index finger. "Look at what happened to Diamond City. Before McDonough took over, it was a half-decent place to live. A little stricter that I usually go for but not terrible."

Vincent listened intently as Hancock revealed that the original McDonough had been his older, annoying but not heartless brother; how he didn't recognise the man with the mile-wide smile that kicked the ghouls out of Diamond City, how he became disgusted and left to live in Goodneighbor for good and how he tried to bring the rejected folk with him. How not everyone found comfort in such a place, despite his best efforts.

"I know I run my mouth but having someone who sees the world for what it is and is willing to do something about it. It's meant a lot to me. I feel damn lucky to have you as a friend."

Vin's weatherworn cheeks were rosy, whether by the alcohol or the compliment, Hancock couldn't be certain. "Well, feelin's mutual," Vin lifted his third beer and clinked the bottle to Hancock's own. "Think I might like to get back to Goodneighbor for that personal time Garvey suggested. D'you mind heading back?"

"Not at all. Better get some shut-eye so's we can roll up in time to get the first round in tomorrow." 

"Yeah. An' I need a word with Fred Allen, too." 

"Now don't you go buyin' what I can just give. Here, you've earned it." Vin felt the ghoul press a bottle of Bufftats into his hand discreetly. He slipped it into a pocket as a couple of Minutemen, chatting happily, entered The Mess then got up and slunk off to his quarters to enjoy scratching his itch in private.

* * *  
They reached Goodneighbor before the sun set, a few rounds and one stimpak lighter. The nearby Gunners had been problematic. They seemed to have re-equipped recently with tougher armour and bigger guns, probably in response to Winlock and Barnes' recent demise, not that it had helped any of them in the end.

Vin had dumped his weapons in the lock-up at the Rexford and put his bags away in his usual room. He changed into a clean t-shirt, his comfortable greaser jacket and the nearly-new pair of jeans that Daisy had put aside. He'd had to try them on, making use of her private rooms upstairs and she'd spent a little too long looking and tugging to make sure they fit perfectly. She then slapped him on the thigh and shooed him off.

Hancock, inevitably, got coralled by Fahrenheit to deal with 'something Mayoral' that came up. Vin very much doubted it was business, judging by the twinkle in his eye and the waft of slightly sour perfume that certainly didn't belong to the intimidating Fahren.

Soon, Charlie was pouring a whiskey into his glass and Magnolia was pouring smooth jazz into his good ear. The song lit a fire in his belly alongside the burn of the whiskey, echoed by the sizzling cherry of his cigar. The music faded and the singer drifted over into his smoke. She leaned forward, breathed in the sweet fumes and Vin's natural musk slowly.

"Now there's something special about you, isn't there. Don't tell me, let me guess," she purred.

"Magnolia," Vin greeted her with a touch of his militia hat.

"Ahh, of course. It's those powerful muscles of yours. My, I could get used to looking at those."

Vincent smiled. He was rather proud of his build, Buffout-enhanced as it might be.

"So what brings a man like _you_ to my part of town?"

He clenched his jaw and decided to play the part of mysterious stranger.

"What do you think?"

"We're all trying to forget something, aren't we?" the singer said lazily. "I think you and I are gonna get along. So it's my turn to answer questions, right? What can I do for you?"

Vin hadn't really thought about it but that warmth was spreading between his thighs as he gave his responsibilities the night off.

"I was wondering if… we could get to know each other better… Magn _ificent_?" he ventured.

Magnolia smiled at the clumsy compliment. "Oh really? Go on…"

"What's your story? How d'you end up singing here?"

The songbird gave him the heavily abridged version of her tale, telling him something and nothing simultaneously. "Is there anything else?"

Vincent let his emerald green gaze sweep down over the curves of her ruby red dress, then looked up under a slow blink, his best rogueish grin propping up one pink-tinged cheek.

"You, me, an evening walk under the streetlights…."

"And then what?" she said breathlessly.

_Good to know I haven't lost my touch,_ he thought, leaning in.

"Music," came his low, melodic rumble. He took a last drag on the cigar and stubbed it out unhurriedly.

Magnolia's blue eyes sparkled. "Oohh, I knew you were something special, alright. Let me get my coat."

Vin tapped his empty whiskey glass on the counter. "Let's get outta here."

They walked arm-in-arm around Scollay Square, Vin recounting his favourite pre-war musicians - a mix of rock 'n' roll and big band swing. Magnolia wanted every detail when he described seeing the Miller Orchestra live. He omitted the fact that he'd been with Nora at the time. He told her about playing the drum; she'd noticed that he had good rhythm and was sorry to hear about his partial deafness.

They ended up at a hotel room before too long, behind a locked door and devoid of most of their outerwear, a slow song on the PIPboy radio. Magnolia turned her lips away from his but he landed a string of kisses along her elegant neck before a strange, heavy feeling came over him and he slumped back.

"What's the matter, sugar? Why d'you stop?"

Vin huffed out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Magnolia. There's nothing the matter with you, doll. I… I don't know."

She lifted his chin, stroking her thumb down his luxurious moustache. "I think I do, honey. I know who you are, _Man Out of Time_. You wear your rank even when you're not in uniform. I know you're grieving your wife, sugar but your love train has a new destination."

"I'm not sure I'm ready for another relationship just yet," Vin demurred, mistaking her meaning.

"Oh, I'm married to my music, handsome. Tonight was going to be a… special performance. But I understand, perhaps more than you know."

"I should go."

"Why, sweetie, you need a good night's sleep. Keep the room, I'll let myself out. I really did enjoy your company, I haven't been out on the town in too long. Thankyou for that. Next time I'm onstage, I'll be thinking of what might have been, put a little extra flavor in the tune, if you catch my meaning. Oh by the way, that smooth young operator was asking after you yesterday. He didn't stay, barely long enough to give Daisy a peck on the cheek."

"MacCready?"

Magnolia scooped up her coat and swirled herself into it. "Mm-hmm. 'Night, cowboy," she said, blowing him a kiss and gliding through the door. The soft click as it shut made him jump, along with his train of thought.

_Mac was_ supposed _to be in Sanctuary, looking after Shaun. Well, nothing I can do about that right now. It isn't like there aren't other folk around keeping the place in one piece. Heck, I spent hours on my own at ten. Shaun isn't even a real… no. Shaun's real enough. He's innocent, sure but at least the kid has brains. He'll be alright._

_Mac, though. He's disobeyed an order. What the heck did he think he was doing? Well, he's gonna have to wait too. Better I don't see Mister 'Smooth Operator' right now anyway. Ugh. My guts are twisting. Fuckin' just go to sleep, Vinnie._

* * *  
[Rrrr….Click]

I don't know why I'm recording this. Might delete it later. Guess I wanna purge a few thoughts and talking about stuff, well. I never used to _like_ to but since joining Chem Addicts Natick I guess it became a habit. *dry laugh* They could've held a group closer to home. I mean, I didn't mind the bike drive from Back Bay but almost five years of that… ever since seventy-one when I lost Vonnie an' Pop... five years of "Hi, my name's V and I C.A.N. quit!" What in the name of Mr. Pebbles _balls_ is that of any use now? I know popping chems doesn't erase Nor…(say it, man) Nora's _murder_. Nor does it wipe out the knowledge of what happened to _our son_. That I put him down like a dog. That I got his clone puppy thinkin' I'm his goddam _father_ an' makin' everybody treat him like a regular kid. Well, he's not. He ain't never gonna grow up an he sure as _hell_ ain't my s…

{Keep it down in there, big guy! Havin' a bad trip? Need anythin', hunk?}

Shit, sorry. Got any Daytripper, Hancock? I need mellowin' out.

Delete… delete, you _piss-poor ancient piece o' **worthless crap!**_

[*click….whirrrrr… DELETED]

* * *

_We didn't stay in Goodneighbor long. Travelling is one of the only things that keeps my head clear at the moment. Soldiering has been drilled into me so deep it doesn't leave much room for anything else, not when there are potential enemies nearby._

_We found ourselves just outside the city. Coming over the ridge with the dawn light, the first thing I saw was a ramshackle group of huts with signs of recent use. A campfire, scattered tins and bottles that you could still smell the contents of…and a blue and white guardpost. Just like the one at one-eleven. I gripped my rifle tighter to gag the tremor in my hand that tried to tattle on my fears._

_We dropped down and that's when I saw it: the tunnel._

_Hancock was wary, reminding me how Yao Guai liked 'this kinda real estate' but I already knew that no mutant fauna were welcome here. I could smell the air, a tang of coolant and Abraxo and hydraulic fluid and grease. Grease that kept that big cog door rolling._

_The rocky floor soon gave way to a metal grate and a speaker crackled to life as Hancock and I approached the PIPboy port._

_They needed fusion cores, I had plenty, almost forgotten in my pack just as I'd left suits of power armor in various states of repair scattered around the Commonwealth._

_We got permission to enter so I plugged in and hit the red button._

* * *  
Vin shivered. His right arm and leg shivered enough for Hancock to notice and nudge a Med-X at his dangling palm. He pushed it away, shaking his head briefly and filled his broad lungs as he jogged down the entrance steps and up again toward the disappearing vault door. 

(Hancock)  
 _So we walk along the extended gangplank and are greeted by the Overseer herself. I'm gettin' the side-eye from just about every smoothskin here. I just smile and touch my hat. Vin hands over the fusion cores with his left hand - he doesn't think anyone's noticed that his right's all aquiver. It ain't Buffout withdrawl, though he's gonna need a hit o' that soon. It's this place. He's gone real pale-like, enough to pop a few freckles that are usually stealthed and seems a bit shell-shocked when the hot Vault bosslady welcomes us to have a look around. I put a hand in the small of his back an' he jerks away an' comes to life again._

_The labcoat guy and the security muscle both recommend the barber, the latter adding a 'if you need it - not saying you do'. No he doesn't. Don't you touch a hair on his burnished head, think I._

_I hear the miaow of a cat, who brushes our legs as she runs past. Yeah, go be free, kitty._

_We're in the elevator, goin' down. Handsome's gone all stiff again an' not in the fun way._

The doors hushed open. Vin automatically took a step forward, clear of the doors but ground to a halt once again. 

Before them lay a high, bright atrium, the round Overseer's window looking down on the walkways and staircases. Vin's senses were assaulted in a well-meaning fashion. The savoury smell of baking vegetables; the creak of a stubborn bolt being tightened; the fragrance of shampoo; the quiet backround nattering of residents; the taste of clean, conditioned air and the soft echo of footsteps on the linoleum, traffic that sent minute vibrations into the soles of his boots.

"Are you seeing this?" Hancock rumbled.

Vin didn't answer, just stood there as if he'd re-frozen.

"Nowhere in the Commonwealth is this nice!" Hancock continued, sauntering forward. At no response from his friend, he grumbled, "Like talking to a brick wall."

A resident ascended the staircase in front of them and upon seeing Hancock, she muttered "Uh. Another damn ghoul. She looked Vin square in his shellshocked face and said, loudly, "I hope this one is better behaved than the last one!" as if he'd brought some stray mongrel in with him. 

"Better behaved?" shot back Hancock. "Huh. I doubt it."

This nudged Vin from his stupor, enough to scowl after the rude Vaultie.

Hancock turned to his pal and lowered his voice. "Back with us again, big cat?"

"Hmm?"

"You're shakin' an' there ain't no rock 'n' roll playin'."

"Oh." Vin clutched his trembling right hand in his left and shifted his weight. "It's just that… this… this is what we were promised. 'Better living underground' and all that _bullshit_. You shoulda seen the brochures. Bet the illustrators used this place as reference. D'you think…"

"You wanna leave? I'm down with that."

"No, actually, I was gonna say, do you think they have showers?"

A small voice piped up: " 'Course we do, mister! Hey, would you like a tour? Just five caps!"

Vincent looked down to see a redheaded boy who introduced himself as Austin Engill. The kid reminded Vin of himself and he happily parted with the five caps. 

They toured the depot, Overseer's office, diner and various other useful locations before being introduced to Austin's friend Erin and being told that the tour was concluded. 

They returned to the depot, did a little bartering then Vin rubbed his chin and asked if the barber was open. Horatio welcomed his new customer with open arms but Vincent was only after a hairwash and a shave. 

(Hancock)  
 _That warm water must have been just what the guy needed. I pop a Mentat and kick back with some highbrow fashion magazine whilst Vin's broad shoulders sink down away from his ears at the basin._

_He tells us that a side-effect of cryostasis is being more prone to feel the cold along with some memory loss. He can't recall his parents, grandparents, schooldays past a vague notion of 'em._

_He's all dried an' pretty; Horatio compliments him on his hair color. Now the grime is down the plughole, the red really shines through. Must admit I'm a bit jealous. Kinda miss my blonde rogue locks._

_So next we have breakfast at the canteen, not bad. The schoolteacher wants him to go talk to the vaultie-brats so I ask if there's anythin' I could do. A big guy hands me a wrench and points me at a row of nuts; now a scrawny gal hands me a paintbrush an' points me at a wall. Might as well live within pretty ones if you're gonna stay inside 'em._

_Vin comes out grinnin', wavin a comic. Phhfff. Big kid, hehe._

"Hey Hancock, we gotta go. Little Erin's kittycat got out of the Vault, I said I'd fetch her back."

"Well ain't you the local hero. Pretty sure the cat would be happier outside but alright, let's go."

As soon as they exited the tunnel, Vin's PIPboy pinged with what he'd started to think of as   
Minutemail.

"Someone else lost a pet?" teased Hancock. 

"Funny. No, Preston found a new spot to clear, maybe settle. Oh, there, she is!" he pointed.

The cat hadn't strayed too far and after a quick stroke on her head, Ashes went home.

"How 'bout that. A Vaultie cat!" remarked Hancock, having fully expected it to grab its freedom with all four paws.

"Some value safety, familiarity and a guaranteed full belly over fun, I guess," Vin shrugged.

"So, we havin' fun then? Good. That's what I like to hear," Hancock said huskily.

"We will be soon." Vin raised his weapon and started to lope away. "On me, Hancock."

"That'd be nice," mused the ghoul to himself, making sure Vin didn't hear. What Vin did catch was the rather fruity chuckle that followed.

* * *  
(Vincent)  
 _With Hangman's Alley cleared and prepared to welcome new settlers, we set off to answer a distress call from Tenpines Bluff, leaving the two gates locked and the only way in defended by turrets._

_The Tenpines were being harried by raiders again, which we've taken care of. The sun's close to setting and we've been invited to stay the night but I feel unsettled. Not sure why, just antsy... An idea just popped into my head… yeah. That could work._

The woman put another log on the campfire.

"Thanks, sister," rasped the ghoul, looking up from sharpening his knife. Vin saw how the firelight reflected in his dark eyes, sometimes revealing a hint of the once-blue irises beneath. Those sparks leapt up to glance at Vincent briefly then danced back to the flames.

"Is everything OK?" Vin asked as he squatted down to sit on a log.

"Oh yeah. Better than that. This is just… tricky."

(Hancock)  
 _So I start talkin'. Thing is, once I start, I can't stop. I spill the entire shipment of beans: how being with Vin has made me realize that I've been runnin' out on the good things I got - my family, my life in Diamond City, heck even Goodneighbor._

_I tell him that running from myself is what made me into a damn Ghoul but how just being here with him, by fate or destiny or just god damn coincidence, for the first time in my life things just feel right._

_Damn, he's easy on the eyes. Can't say the same but the way he's lookin' at me tells me that he's listenin', really listenin', so I carry on._

_I turned one of the nastiest settlements in the Commonwealth into a refuge for the lost, thought it'd be something I could hang my hat on but running with mister Sentinel-General has made me realize how small-time I'd been thinkin'. How maybe all this running ain't been such a bad thing after all. He didn't fully understand what I meant when I said I was runnin' from myself so I told him what I took, what I knowingly did to that bastard in the mirror. The coward who let all those Diamond City ghouls die…_

_He says he knew of someone else who had taken the same damned chem. A story for another time, he says. He listens to my reasoning and doesn't judge me a jot, says all that matters is what I do from here on out._

_I go for broke. I tell him that throwing in with him has been the best decision I've ever made, like I found a part of myself I never realised was missing. That he's a stone-cold fox is a bonus… I'd probably be in a gutter somewhere, getting gnawed on by Radroaches if it weren't for Vincent. I'd much rather he be the one doing the gnawin'..._

Hancock clapped Vin on the arm. "You have been one hell of a friend."

Vin smiled, those sad green eyes buoyed by rosy, scarred cheeks. "I know the feeling. You're a damn fine man, Hancock. I'm lucky to have you at my back."

"And God help any of 'em who get in our way."

Vincent leaned forward, nesting his fingers together, his elbows resting on his knees. "Hey Hancock, I have a proposition for ya."

"I'm listenin'," he acknowledged, sheathing the blade that had been dancing through his digits.

"How would you like to run Hangman's Alley as an extension of Goodneighbor?"

"You'd give it to me? What's the catch?"

"No catch. An offer. If you're willing to officially become a Minuteman and bring a contingent of Neighborhood Watch to the alley. Maybe in the future we train more up, send them out to other settlements for added security in the larger ones?"

Hancock smirked. "It's real close to Diamond City... " he pondered. "I like the idea of sticking it to the man: imagine, a settlement run partially by ghouls living practically on their doorstep?" He rasped a rusty belly laugh. "I'll do it just for that. It'd only be funnier if _he_ was still around but I guess makin' the Codmans and the rest of the upper stands uncomfortable is enough for me."

"Yeah, those Boston Brahmin could do with a big slice o' humble pie."

"Heh, brahmin. Oh, I get it. Kent called 'em that, once." Hancock's slit of a smile somehow lit up his whole face. "Well, after me runnin' my mouth off, I guess I'd be a fool to say no."

"Say 'no' to running _away_ , then and 'yes' to helping me run the Minutemen."

Hancock just nodded, all out of words.

(Vincent)  
 _Ghouls don't cry easily, something about messed-up tear ducts but John's eyes are glistening. His gaze is intense and I feel restless again. Maybe I just need another Buffout hit._

"I have to go somewhere you'd find uncomfortable," Vin says, pointing up. Hancock gets it and tells him he'll head back to Hangman's Alley.

"Han **cock** 's Alley. I want to see a sign when I visit next. In neon," Vin winks.

Hancock grinned. "D'you do hugs, man?" 

"Was my nickname 'Hugson'?" he replied and opened his arms. It was a brief embrace followed by some embarrassed back slapping on Vin's behalf but Hancock felt higher than a flag on top of Trinity Tower.

* * *

The Sentinel-General reported to the Prydwen. By the time he stepped off the Vertibird it was well past midnight. Ingram was shouting after a scurrying scribe and the precious reactor coolant he handed her seemed to cool her frayed nerves too. Nobody actually saw them enter her quarters but Teagan heard them and let out a resigned, disappointed sigh as he flopped onto his cot in the storeroom.

The next morning, Vincent left. He was still officially off-duty, not that that was ever really true for the Sentinel. He dropped off a few blood samples for Scribe Neriah, was paid by Quinlan for some quarry equipment schematics and kept his head down. 

It had been a comfort to spend a night sleeping next to Tess Ingram but the moment he could, he left for Sanctuary. The thought of seeing MacCready quickened his pulse but he pushed that aside and mentally planned which building project to start on next instead.

* * *  
Sanctuary Hills. He couldn't escape the feeling of coming home any more than he could escape the memory of what it used to be...and the shock of emerging into its ruin.

"There you are, almost thought…"

"Shaun okay?" Vin cut him off.

MacCready was tacken aback. "Well, yeah, he's helping Marcy in the melon patch. Kid enjoys farming."

"Right. I've got a shipment o' wood comin', caravan's just down the road. Help me get it to the north side, we're gonna build a gate."

"Err, yeah. Whatever you need. Sir," said Mac a little sourly.

Vin turned a puzzled frown on him. "Don't go all fuckin' formal on me, Mac. Not here, off-duty."

MacCready lowered his voice. "Well a _frickin'_ 'hello' would have been nice. While you're at it, you can go and say hi to your _son_ , too. And find somebody else to carry your goddarn wood. I'm gonna have a cigarette." He turned and started to storm off but a large hand caught his shoulder. He stopped, huffed through his nose and stared at the ground whilst rooting in his pocket for a smoke. All he found was an empty packet which he screwed up, as he did his face, and lobbed down the street.

"Hi Mac. I didn't forget about you," Vin said softly. He reached into his own pocket and pulled out a pristine cigarette packet. "Here." 

Mac took the peace offering, looking up through his brows. He offered a tiny smile and nod in return.

"Oh, hey. No littering in Sanctuary," Vin said with a shaky smirk. You'd better go pick that up. I'll go and find my..uh. I'll say 'hi' to Shaun."

"You do that, Vin. I'll get your _wood_ in a sec." He had to suppress a snort at that and mentally told himself to get his head out of the gutter.

* * *  
(MacCready)  
 _I'm still mad at him. I caught him popping a Buffout when he thought nobody was looking then carrying twice the number of planks than anyone else. Dead giveaway, fungus-brain!_

_We got a gate up and the beginnings of a sniper's nest. I tried hammering a few nails but Sturges confiscated the hammer 'before you break yer trigger finger,' he said. He's right. I'm crap at that stuff._

_We worked for a couple days until we ran out of wood. Vin's still hardly saying two words to the kid. I don't think synths can cry but he sure looked like he wanted to. I keep telling Shaun, give it time, he's just real shook up._

_Vincent is getting restless again. We meet up at the campfire for breakfast and he shows me somewhere he wants to check out, looks like an old Red Rocket. He remembers to say 'good morning' to the kid at least, who offers up a few pistol mods. Vin's impressed and agrees to pick up an old telephone for parts._

_Well, at least they're talking. 'Shaun's a natural craftsman', I point out. 'Just like his dad.' That just gets me a grunt. Fine, be like that you stubborn son-of-a brahmin. He orders me into a suit of power armor but I bite back from asking why. No point talking to him when he's like this._

_We hit the road again._

* * *  
"Is somebody there?" 

Vin looked around. There was nobody in the scant ruins of the house. He heard the voice again, from the refrigerator. Mac was scanning the open area around them, gun raised. "There's a kid inside? Get him out!"

Vin blasted the handle with his shotgun and a thin, ghouled boy stumbled out, shading his eyes against the mid-morning sun.

"Cindy's dad always told her to stay away from old refrigerators. Told her they were dangerous. Boy was he right." The boy introduced himself as Billy and asked for help to get home.

They hadn't got far when Bullet appeared, unarmed.

"Slaver!" snarled Mac, snapping his rifle up. Vin held him back with a gesture and told the man that Billy was under their protection. He showed up again with his goons when they found the house and reunited the Peabody family. Vin didn't hold MacCready back that time.

(MacCready)  
 _By the time we finally make it to the Red Rocket, he's loosened up a bit. A bunch of what Vin calls 'greasers' have moved in there. Pretty nice set-up they have, too. The girl called Rowdy says our power armor really 'razzes her berries' which makes mister grumpy-chin actually laugh!_

_These guys, the Atom Cats, fix up and mod armor but they also race the suits. Now that's pretty cool. I was hoping to get some of that action but they need help fixing up somebody's water pump… across the bay. Which means swimming because it'll take too long to go around, so because I'm attached to_ Manta Man _by an unbreakable cord of honor - and am also a dumbass puppydog at his heel - I swim._

_I **hate** getting wet._

_So we get there, he unwraps the part, still nice an' dry (I'm jealous) and does his thing. The pump springs to life, we get mirelurk cakes - oh whoopee - get back to the Atom Cats and get paid._

_At least they have towel rags and spare dry clothes. The rock 'n' roll is playing (my kinda music) and I'm just about to shoot some pool with Zeke when the party poopers show up._ Frickin' _Gunners._

_We show them our power armor, alright. Of course they've brought an assaultron, too. Vin takes care of that in a snap. Duke and Johnny D. are pretty handy in a fight and between us, we wipe them out in no time._

_Zeke's so happy, he even gives us jackets and makes us honorary Cats. Sweet! Roxy sidles up to me and asks in a whisper how long we've been together. I tell her we're just friends and she exaggerates a wink at me._

_Bluejay invites us to poetry night. I don't even have time to gripe before Vin surprises me and turns them down; this time, anyway. We crash at theirs overnight. We're off to the Great Green Jewel tomorrow. Do diamonds even come in green, though?"_

* * *  
Mac's head turned as they passed the noodle bar but Vin pressed on to Commonwealth Weaponry. The two men greeted Arturo Rodriguez warmly and traded weaponry for ammunition. Vin was umming and ahhing over a shotgun modification kit when he felt a tap on his left shoulder. He didn't quite hear Mac's mumbled "uh-oh, not now!" to his right.

"Hey Blue! MacCready." 

"So, when are _we_ going to have that one-on-one interview, Piper?" Mac asked.

"Oh, MacCready. Never in a million years," she deflected. "I was wondering… Blue, you said I could tag along sometime? Weeeell, I'm at a loose end right now and…"

"Sure. Give me a couple hours, though. I'll come knockin'."

"Great!" Piper beamed.

Vin turned to Mac, "let's offload this junk on Marcy, then your free to grab your noodles before we go an' find some more." 

"Oh, I see. All I'm good for is hauling your junk!"

"What?"

"No, you go ahead and let Piper be your brahmin for a change."

"Wai.. you're not comin'?" Vin's jaw hung open in disbelief.

"No. Not this time, Vin."

"Did I do something? Did _Piper_ do something?"

"No and… well, that's kinda the trouble right there. No. You know what, nevermind. I promised Brandis I'd help him out with something. I'll head back to Sanctuary after, check on Shaun for you."

They traded their junk for caps and Vin bought Mac two bowls of noodles but ordered nothing for himself and didn't stay with him. He stood, put a warm hand on Mac's shoulder and simply said, "Take care o' yourself, R.J." and disappeared into Homeplate, locking the door behind him.

[*click* LOG 10 - PERSONAL]  
What the hell's goin' on with me? I slept with Ingram the other night. Just slept but.. I want more. Think she does too. Trouble is *long sigh* I keep thinkin' about _him_. Those blue eyes, that easy swagger. That cocky smirk o' his. Am I…? No. I'm straight for a start. Always had an eye for the _ladies_. 

Oh, Nora. Love. I need to move on. Not expecting to ever find something as wonderful as we had but… Well, Tess is a good woman. There's definitely something between us. So why can't I get I this _guy_ off my mind? 

Oh, Nuka-Crapola. Vonnie, I wish you were here to guide me on this, cuz. Could I really be attracted to a _man?_ That'd make me… well, I don't know. Not as straight as I thought I was, I guess. Was that why you took me to that Guy's Only bar? Oh Fuck! Were you tryin' ta set me up with J.J.? I mean, he was… dammit. He was handsome, alright.[*7 seconds of muffled background noise*]  
R.I.P. you clumsy goofball.

I don't know how I feel. Probably best if I stay away from him for a bit. Don't want this…whatever this is, interferin' with our duties. I do care for him though. Should be callin' him 'brother' like all the other Knights 'n' all but I can't bring myself to use that word with him. Am I really falling for…? 

Shut up Vin. You have Tess. Don't know if that's the L word either but I do care for her, too. Ahh, shitguns, I'm not in love with him. I _can't_ be. I'm not fuckin' _gay!_ "  
[*clack*]

Vin yanked the holotape out and threw it forcefully across the room, where it hit the wall just above the red workbench, ricocheted off the rounded top and slithered down behind it and slipped between floorboards. 

Vin got up and tried to look for it but realised it was lost behind the heavy, immoveable object. "Great," he snarked and pointed a finger at it angrily. "And stay lost!"

* * *  
(Vincent)  
 _I knock on Piper's door and we spend a few days travelling together, doing a tour of the settlements and cleaning up a few raiders and muties along the way._

_She's chatty and takes my mind off things, keeps trying to feed me gumdrops and not listening when I say I don't like 'em. Maybe I'll give them to Duncan when we get him home. I mean, when his Dad does. He's got a house, somewhere in the Capital Wasteland. Wonder if he'll leave us and move back there?_

_Oh fucknuke, Vinnie. You're doin' it again…_

"Cap for your thoughts?" Piper looked up hopefully, always trying to squeeze a bit more juicy info from the Vault Dweller.

"They're not for sale, Pipes."

"So… are you going stay trapped in that circle of junk? Do I need a magic key to get you out or is it going to turn into some kind of portal to.. er.. a fantastical _Junkyard_?"

"Funny. Just help me sort the plastic from the metal. I'll do the rest and get it in storage, then we have to check out that hospital."

"Right. Kendall Hospital."

It wasn't long before they were fighting their way past bloatflies and bloodbugs just to get to the front door. Vin had tried for a service entrance but found it barred, so crouching low they cautiously entered.

The place reeked. The air had a tang of iron, alcohol, piss and dung. Vin spotted a balding raider through a hole in the wall and downed him with a silenced shot. 

They crept around corridors with peeling paint and cracked, grubby linoleum; slain gurneys laying on their sides with the rubber mattresses disintegrating; papers that were once confidential patient files scattered on the floor with only the faded ink and bloodstains to keep the oath of secrecy. If ghostly janitors and orderlies wandered these halls, they must perpetually be tearing their intangible hair out.

No lifesavers lived here anymore, only lifetakers.

More raiders, caught unawares went down before the General and the Reporter. Some crafting crude pipe weapons, others high on chems. The place was either blocked or torn wide open, the very walls of the hospital injured, operated on and and bypassed.

"I find the quality of care at this facility to be lacking. At best," Piper remarked, having ducked a bullet and returned to sender.

"Watch your step," warned Vin as they emerged onto a coarse wooden balcony.

"Goodness. It's almost like a little city up here.   
How far down does this place go?"

Vincent sucked at his lip where a lucky rifle butt had recently connected and spat blood down the hole. He also shone his PIPboy light there briefly. "Four, five stories?"

"Hmm!" hummed Piper brightly. "Looks deeper."

They cleared the raiders out pretty quickly as they descended each rickety level, until they were just above the ruined ground floor. Vin saw movement, took the shot and downed the last raider but in doing so, stepped onto a slick patch on the catwalk. His legs went out from under him, Piper grabbed at his pack to try and steady him but they both ended up falling anyway.

Something crunched beneath Piper's hip. "Uh, Blue…"

"Dammit. Stop callin' me that, Pipes. I don't wear the Vault suit any more."

"That's not the only reason I call you that. You have such sad eyes, y'know, like, 'to _feel_ blue'?" Vincent just sighed and shook his head. "Anyhoo… I don't think we're alone down here," she whispered.

The sound of something scratching the floor and the swoosh of a heavy, rough object sweeping it brought Vin's shotgun barrel up just as he jumped to his feet.  
Piper scrambled out of the way of the Deathclaw's tail as it whipped around out of the shadows.

Vin whipped his head around. "Over there, now!"

They ran for cover, Piper facing forwards, Vin walking backwards and pumping shell after shell into its guts as it lunged fowards, getting caught on cracked, dangling concrete and loose wires. It was just about to hurl a handful of brick when the last shot tore into it, freeing whatever maleficent spark once gave it life.

"Well, shit." Piper panted. "You see a way out of here?"

The floor was too high up to reach, the metal security doors sealed, the power light dead. 

"Just needs some juice. Stay put, tell me if that li'l bulb lights up." Vin poked around and found the generator and the breaker switch. 

"Super green!" yelled Piper. Vin rejoined her. The door opened into a service tunnel filled with yellow barrels. 

"Take this," Vin said, handing Piper a Rad-X.

"Do they come in that razzy-berry flavor?" She said as she swallowed it.

"Well, gumdrop-girl, maybe you got yourself a sideline there. Flavored Rad chems. See if Soloman'll go halves with you."

"Ha! Ohhhh, fresh air! Finally!"

"Well, fresher than in there, anyway." 

"Phew! Can we just… take a moment, Blue?"

"Sure thing."

Vin started to rearrange the various junk and valuables he'd picked up. He took a swig of whiskey, washing his cut lip with it. Piper asked his advice, tentatively, about her sister who was becoming just like her. When asked how to deal with her, Vin replied, "Just love her."

Somewhere in his mind, he heard MacCready's voice talking about Shaun. 

"Just love him"

_I'm not sure I remember how to 'just love' anymore,_ he mused to himself.

"Hey. Mister sad puppydog eyes. Let me buy you a drink?"

"Sure, Piper. Thanks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [End Notes: The scene on the Prydwen is concurrent with Chapter 7 of Vincent, Redefined Part 1.]
> 
> Much of the affinity dialogue is taken directly from the game but there's some creative license here and there. 
> 
> Vincent, up to this point, is largely ignorant of his true orientation and of queer culture in general. He knows that his cousin had both girlfriends and boyfriend(s?) but labels were not used in their households. He still thinks in terms of 'gay or straight' and due to societies pressures and propaganda, was very comfortably secluded in the 'nuclear family' ideal. His uncle was homophobic, which didn't help matters. On top of this, much of his longterm memory, if not damaged beyond repair, is still healing/'thawing out'.
> 
> You can find screenshots of my actual gameplay over on Tumblr @theartofblossoming
> 
> I also have a ko-fi for tips: https://ko-fi.com/theartofblossoming  
> where you can also see some of my Fallout inspired art!
> 
> Comments are encouraged, thankyou for reading!


	24. Holotape X - Nuka Mix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vin & Mac visit Nuka World and get more than they bargained for.

Somewhere north of Sunshine Tidings and south of the Lonely Chapel, the radio hiss on Vin's PIPboy resolved itself into words:

_……was a place with all the zip of Nuka-Cola? Wouldn’t that be the cheer-cheer-cheeriest place in all the world? Quench your thirst for adventure at Nuka World! Hiya, kids! Remember, Nuka-World is only open for a few more weeks…*click*_

"Hey! I was listenin' to that!" MacCready griped.

"Well I've heard it before and you know I can't hear what's around us too good when there's background noise," Vin tapped his right ear, the one permanently deafened at Anchorage.

Mac's brow creased in sympathy and he nodded. "Did you…ever visit, y'know, back in the day?" He asked.

"Nuka World? No, never did. Oh I pestered my Pop for about a year to go when it opened. I was eight! We never could afford it, though. Nora and I used to talk about bringing Shaun when he was older…" Vincent felt a hand on his arm, that trustworthy anchor bringing him back to the present.

"Hey, sorry Vin. Didn't mean to bring that up."

"Doesn't matter. Anyway, I very much doubt it's a fun place to visit these days; still, I had a feelin' I ought to check it out."

"I trust your gut, Sentinel." 

* * *  
There was no mistaking that they'd found the right place, judging by the towering cola bottle statues - monuments to the gods of consumerism and capitalism; rotting guardians to the gateway of a business giant. Vincent remembered the television commercials: pretty, dancing people whose faces had been glazed with fake smiles.

Vin crept forward stealthily with MacCready, his loyal shadow, not far behind. Down the road, green-clad figures appeared. They ducked behind a structure to their right and crouched. Straining, Vin just made out a few words. 

The Gunners were investigating a signal, coming from somewhere within Nuka World. 

The figures shuffled. Vin moved further into the structure, a car park entrance, only to discover that his progress was blocked by rubble at the same time that a growing electrical whirr registered in his left ear. 

He turned to see metallic claws appearing around the wall-edge, opening triple digit claws. MacCready turned on his heel, startled, his weapon raising too slowly. The blue-white muzzle flash of Vincent's Gauss rifle met the red glare of the assaultron's head laser as it powered up. A second two millimeter, electromagnetically propelled bullet pierced the robot's eye, Mac's own shot finding purchase in delicate electronics and the force of the two shots knocked the femmebot-fatale to the ground.

"Thanks," Mac said shakily.

"That was too close," muttered Vin. "No way through, let's try around back."

They traversed the length of the parking lot, right up to the bus stop. There was good cover but the Gunners had been alerted. A shot sang past Vin's head and he ducked back behind cover, silently signalling how many and where to his waiting sniper. They launched the offensive more skilfully than the mercs defended and before long, the area was secure.

"Nice welcoming party," sneered Mac, spitting on the remains of the leader. They took everything useful that they could carry and descended the stairs of the transport station. 

* * *  
(Vincent)  
 _The first thing we see is a guy slumped on the floor. He's breathing. He groans when he hears us and calls out for help. Raiders did it. Not Gunners, raiders. Strike one._

_His hand clutches his ribs as he tells us that his family, Lisa and Cody, are being held at Nuka World. I can tell by the way he says their names that he really misses them but there's no blood beneath his fingers and his breathing is too deep for cracked ribs. Strike two._

_I offer a stimpak but the guy, Harvey, refuses. I ask, 'Now why would you pass that up?' Strike three. He's out and so is the truth. He's been forced into this, playing the wounded settler routine. **They** made him do it and could we help? 'It's no cakewalk', he warns us._

_Never is._

Vin soon had the monorail power back on. Harvey had cut it to make his story look more convincing but he hadn't bet on meeting Valentine's protégé.

"You mean, this thing actually still runs?" Mac's eyes widened incredulously.

Vin checked over the green-lit controls. "Looks like. Auto-drive, yeah," he mumbled to himself. "What, you never been on a train before?"

"Not one that actually _moves_!"

Vincent grinned. "Alright, hold tight. Next stop, Nuka-World." MacCready tried sitting but that didn't help his roiling guts. He stood, gripping handrails tightly and moving toward the end of the car where the broken glass of the cone afforded some fresh air. Seeing the Wasteland waste away behind them at speed was mesmerising. 

A speaker crackled to life, tinny music and a forcefully jovial voice pointed out sights on their approach, left and right. For a moment, Vin imagined what it would have been like if he had visited with Vonnie when they were kids… but Uncle Ryan never let that happen.

The woman's voice is interrupted by a dirty drawl. Vin's features shift and Mac reads him like a book whose ending he's guessed. 

"So, Harvey bagged another sucker to help his "family." Can't believe that gag still works. I only got a minute so you better listen and listen good.  
The name's Gage. Porter Gage. And the truth is you've been set up. This ain't no rescue mission, it's a death trap.  
But if you somehow make it through alive, I have an interesting offer for you. In the meantime, have fun and put on a good show. I'll be watching."

"Let me guess. No reverse on this thing?" Mac shot.

"No. No way back, only through." Vin's face was as sour as his friend's stomach.

(MacCready)  
 _The monorail train slows and my gut feels heavy. There's a faint scent in the air, sickly sweet and metallic, old gunpowder and decay. Not too far different from a Supermutant's den but I don't smell their acrid odor._

_We get out. The elevator's blocked, can't get out past the train cars. Only one option and it's marked:_

_'Gauntlet'._

Vin stops tapping on the terminal in disgust. "Nothin' useful," he replies to Mac's questioning glance. He looked up at the red arrows beckoning them on. He didn't need to tell Mac to be cautious, to tread softly. They were both pro's at this. They descended the steps around the corner to see what might once have been a large gift shop. The only souvenir you could get here now was a scar, if you weren't careful...or, if you were lucky.

A speaker sprang to life. A gameshow host-style voice piped up, giving a warped welcome. There must have been hidden cameras, the two realised as they went, because of the narration.

Vin hugged the left wall, picking out several turrets on his PIPboy. He pulled his trigger and they exploded compliantly. Mac spotted another and fired. Edging forward, hugging the shattered wall, Vin felt more than heard the shudder of a badly maintained laser turret opening. He twisted around to look up, just dodging the first lick of deadly light. One squeeze of the trigger and that was silenced, too but Vin didn't hear MacCready's question.

_"Stay frosty, Foxes," he muttered. They weren't quite to the end, yet. Fresh snow had fallen into the trench, hiding the turrets until their biometric scanners registered your warmth, your beating heart. Sparks threw a pulse grenade and knocked out another section but it wasn't just turrets hiding in the white. Then, as if the blanket of snow was shrugging to itself, Staff Sergeant Nate Hudson saw movement. He fired on instinct. Something returned his fire before slumping down, Private Harvey leapt between it and Nate. It started snowing on the abruptly stilled scene, the ringing in his ears lending the flakes the guise of static on a screen and before him, three bodies in stealth suits, now ruined and black against the pink snow at his feet, a fragile cloud dissipating; his Private breathing his last._

_**"VINCENT!"**_ MacCready hissed again. "This is no time to go on vacation to the past, pal. Are you back with me?"

The sardonic gameshow narrator crackled over the speakers, "Get a move on, Vic, I've seen loaded brahmin move faster than this!"

Vin blinked and checked the area before meeting Mac's panicked gaze. All clear. "Present and correct."

"How do I know you won't…"

"I'm with it!" he snapped back. "Search the ammo feeds, grab anything useful."

Whilst MacCready cracked open turret remains, Vin crouched behind a counter, shuffled junk around and discreetly popped a Mentat. In seconds, he felt his swirling emotions retreat deferentially whilst his intellect sharpened to a point, his perception keened and his thoughts were forcefully focussed on the task in hand. That should gag the PCSS symptoms for now.

Onward, into the smell of petrol and the flash of its distorted rainbow hue. Vin disarmed a flamethrower trap, then tripwire after tripwire. He was good at this. A locked red door couldn't keep him out for long, either. MacCready made a mental note to request lockpick 'training'. Blindfolded. With alcohol as an incentive… or a challenge. 

Vin swiped tools as he went. The man could never leave a good wrench behind!

Ascending a wooden staircase, they continued the challenge. Bodies of previous 'vic's gave what little aid they could, as if the trapped spirits demanded that Vincent live up to the meaning of his name ('conqueror, victorious') and enact retribution.

A loose-plank bridge taken at a sprint; more tripwires and fuel-soaked footpaths. Vin covered his good ear and took out a pile of cannisters from a distance, the flames racing toward them as they rounded a corner for cover. 

Three red doors. The narrator was savoring this. Vin picked the wrong one and sprang back from an explosion, just in time. The next hazard was radiation but they were both prepared for that and quickly found the key to progress. 

More turrets. Vin didn't need another Med-X, his adrenaline was pumping and the pulse grenade had already left his hand. 

"Duck and cover!" Mac shouted, a second before the thunderous boom and rain of shrapnel. Vin peered around to finish off the last couple of turrets and blow the head off the eerie cymbal monkey that had somehow survived. He found a terminal and disabled commands that would have woken up a troupe of protectrons waiting further down the line.

They pressed on, through a rad-rat infested maze, popping out into a service tunnel littered with dead robots and live mines. Vin expertly disarmed them and passed them to MacCready. "What's yours is mine, huh?" Mac quipped. Vin snorted a quiet laugh.

The next door opened and suddenly, both men's vision blurred. Vin pushed Mac's rifle barrel down. "Gas. Safety.. *cough* on." 

Vin wished fervently for a gas mask but held his breath and went toward a room that contained a bank of computers. He found a valve and turned it off but that didn't help enough. The security door was locked and he very delicately inserted the bobby-pin, knowing that one spark could still ignite the room.

The door clicked open without fuss… but something else was clicking, too. A giant, glowing radroach leapt at him from the floor. Vin took a lungful of the gaseous atmosphere, winning just enough oxygen to slam his rifle butt onto the thing's carapace. Mac finished it off as Vin clung to consciousness just long enough to hack the terminal. The doors sprang open the gas dispersed and the two took deep, grateful breaths.

"Let's see if there's anything we can use in here," Vin suggested. Mac saw him look at the desk fan and rolled his eyes. "Aaalright. I'm on it, boss."

The scavenge gave them time to collect themselves, as well as junk and ammo, so their first encounter with giant crawling and smaller flying ants in the maintenance shed was a brief one. They reloaded and pressed on.

(Vincent)  
 _I've never seen raiders like the ones that appear on the catwalks and chicken wire above us. One in a fancy suit with a metal jacket over the shoulders. Another in an elephant mask that looked like a kindergartener's craft project, with fuzzy pants. A third wrapped in dark rags and blades, aping my nightmares._

_We weave around the wooden maze, our shots alternating as naturally as breathing. We're in synch, Mac and I, in harmony, each knowing where the other is likely to move next, keeping up a constant assault on our mocking assailants as the narrator gets more and more fevered in his excitement as each strange raider falls._

_We scoop up our prizes as the furred creatures fall, broken animal masks revealing painted faces, the sick parody of a piñata. The suits and blades drop gifts too, ammunition of a calibre that fits no weapon I own...and I have quite the collection._

_One turret tries to hide around a corner but I find it first and finally, we're through the Gauntlet…but we're not done yet._

_It's all fun and games to them, this torture and death. Unsurprising, then, that there's still an end of level boss to beat but the voice from the traincar is back. Gage. Porter Gage. We win a hint and I find the 'weapon' he said he'd snuck into the lockers._

_A water pistol, great. Shaun would love that! I fall back to sarcasm until Gage explains how this Overboss, Colter, uses an electrically enhanced power armor. After poking around I find one part of the system's supply and yank out its fusion core. All I need to do is short the suit with the water zapper and use live ammo to finish the job._

_It's a quick show. Not sorry to disappoint the audience there. I finally get a face to put the dirty drawl and name to, feel like I should know him but the huge eyepatch is a little distracting. Mac follows like my shadow. Gage glances at him but says nothing._

_So. Here's a turn up for the books. I got the job, not that I knew this was an application process._

_**Raider Overboss.** Great… _

_We stroll through Nuka World USA. Mac's so high strung I can practically feel him vibrating. Hell,_ I'm _practically vibrating too but out of rage. We see a guy called Shank. He's the go-between, a guy who sets up raids to the Commonwealth. I had wondered where some of those sackheads were coming from. We also see settlers with blinking collars around their necks. Enslaved traders. Seeing Harvey down the road, on his lonesome and wearing a collar of his own, I get to know the truth of it. His family's long gone, as are some of his friends. I know what needs to be done, though MacCready isn't gonna like it._

_My PIPboy dings a notification that Coastal Cottage was hit. There's hardly anyone there but I hope they're alright. Nothing I can do from here, I remind myself and put the pang of guilt away. Then some kooky blonde doll in terrible shades bubbles up and introduces herself as 'Sierra Petrovita', all the way from Girdershade in the Capital Wasteland. Apparently she runs a Nuka Cola museum. I glance at Mac and he just shrugs. She talks fast and I'm impatient to meet up with Gage so I tell her yeah, I know who Bradberton was, that I don't have time right now but agree to find her a Nuka Quartz. How the raiders have left her alone I don't know.  
_

Vin and Mac rode the shaky wooden elevator up to the old Overboss' digs on Fizztop Mountain. Well, _within_ what was actually a fake, bottle shaped mountainous structure. 

Gage laid it all out. The plan. What they'd achieved, those three gangs: the Disciples, the Operators and the Pack. A triumverate of terror that had managed to put their foot in the door through co-operation but had fallen back toward their natural state of entropy.

So here stood the puppetmaster, hoping to bring the gangs together again and conquer the five huge themed park zones, using the new Overboss to get the job done.

Gage shifted, his construction armour clanking softly. His one hazel-green eye bored into Vin's pure green pair.

"You know, I think I heard of you... some bigshot with the Brotherhood of Steel, right? They ain't that different from a Raider gang, you ask me. Just try and act all legitimate, but they still just take what they want."

"Yeah. Well maybe I'm _tired_ o' takin' orders. Maybe I _like_ the idea of givin' 'em, for a change," Vin bluffed.

Mac wore his best poker face and settled inconspicuously onto a bar stool. 

"Good. I know I'm throwing a lot at you all at once here."

"Oh sure, I understand. So are you just going to paint the _bullseye_ directly on my back, or what?"

Mac picked up on the word, their shared codename and twisted to see if he could catch any telltale reaction that would link Porter to the underground. Nothing. Zero Gage, Railroad. Mac smirked at his own model railway joke and the raider misread it as Mac simply laughing at Vin's sarcasm.

"Ha. I ain't gonna lie, it's a part of the reason you won't see me stepping up and running things," Gage admitted. "But I'm telling you, it ain't gonna be that bad."

Vin listened carefully, a one-eared boss listening to a one-eyed guide. Gage told him how the traders had hired guns to protect them, that they had been dug in like ticks. _Had been_ , he bragged. Vin privately wondered if they had been Gunners or some slightly more savoury hired killers.

He understood that he needed to earn the gangs' respect and do a meet and greet, then show them exactly why he deserved their loyalty by clearing out the threat-infested zones. They left Fizztop to head under the 'mountain' and meet Nisha, head of the Disciples.

(MacCready)  
 _As if I needed any more nightmare fuel. Blades and blood, steel and iron, the piss and shit from their victims makes the air fetid down here. I have to give it to Vin, though. He's playing the part well, sounding kinda like a mashup between Mastadonald and Skullpocalypse in the way he swings between corny sarcasm and dominating barks. Thing is, they're buying it. Vin tells them he doesn't make promises and they'll do what he says. Blades-for-hair is actually backing down a touch. I think that was what he calls his 'Staff Sergeant' voice. I may just be standing a little straighter._

_Next we visit the Operators. I know their kind. Heck, I was one, never so pompous and evil and I never, ever, wore such bad suits. We may speak the same language, caps, but we are at opposite ends of the spectrum - and maybe, before too long, the firing range. William and Mags… those names are familiar. Bill and Margaret Black from Diamond City? Those two pompous pricks that had a go at my Lucy that time? I have to clench my jaw to stop from fracking things up for Vin. I'm **sure** its them. Upper stand snobs turned raider. Huh. They ask him how it felt taking down Colter and love it when says it was 'thrilling'. He didn't even have to lie._

_The Pack are quite a spectacle. Somebody sure likes to play dress up. I hate seeing anything living in a cage but they seem to be collectors. People, animals, things I can't even name. Vin squares up to the Alpha. He and Mason seem to be almost friendly. I sit pretending to watch the dogfight and a raider walks by with a cute purple stuffed toy clinging to their leg and I can't help but think, 'Duncan would love that'. I'm gonna cling to Vin's side like that purple plushie. We'll get through this.  
I can't help overhearing - well alright, I'm straining to hear over the growls and cheers - that Porter Gage set up Colter as the Overboss but he also arranged to get him taken down after he got lazy. The guy is more dangerous than any Gunner boss I ever knew. Be careful, Vin. Mason's handing him a gun that looks like a rainbow threw up on it. I know that 'new project' gleam in Vin's eye.  
_

They returned to the Fizztop Grille, where Gage stood waiting. "Well, you're back in one piece. That's a good sign."

He explained the plan: to plant a flag in each zone for whichever gang the Overboss felt like putting in charge there and to get the power back on.

"So that's it. Nice and simple, right? Take a minute, settle in if you want, and then let's get to it. I'm gonna take a shit. Holler if you need me." Gage left through the double doors and looked back. His gaze flicked between the two men and actually caught MacCready's attention to waggle an eyebrow his way, then he was gone.

Mac breathed a sigh of relief and grinned at his closest friend. "Side by side, we can take on the whole world and nothing's going to stop us." 

Vin didn't answer straight away, rummaging through the desk Mac currently sat on. He didn't look at him immediately as he spoke, either. 

"I need you to go home, R.J."

MacCready's ballsy grin melted into disbelief. He leaned into Vin's space and lowered his voice. "You gotta be _fucking_ kidding me. I'm not going to leave you alone in this pit of snakes!"

Vin turned to face him. Mac knew that stubborn expression. It was as immoveable as a powerless vault door. "I can't risk you. I owe Duncan that much. And… and Shaun. You've been a better father to the boy than I have so far anyway. Go home, Mac. I'll recon this park whilst I'm in their good graces. I have vertibird flares if I need an airlift. Go home, alert Kells to cast an eye over this way and sit tight."

"I guess I have my orders, then, _Overboss_." MacCready's lips pressed together in a surly line.

Vin put his strong hand on Mac's cheek. "I will be careful, I promise. Just have to go 'under cover' for a while. This could be the biggest threat that the Commonwealth faces. Please, Mac."

The warmth of his hand and the pleading look in Vincent's eyes softened Mac's sharp tongue. "Alright. I'll slip away now. But if I don't hear from you in three weeks, I comin' lookin' for you, big guy. And stay sober! Chems are just gonna drag you down."

Vin smiled and his hand shot up to snatch the 'one cap swear tax' that MacCready had tossed over. "Deal. Stay safe, Longshot."

* * *  
Leaving the once-white arches of Nuka Town USA, Porter Gage and the new Overboss advanced at a running crouch. The tall walls of the various park zones loomed ahead, space-aged towers, fairytale turrets, tall canyons, giant cola bottles and an enormous treetop loomed above.

The sound of earth breaking and a vibration beneath his soles made Vin's head whip around. His PIPboy made up for his lack of binaural hearing to find the source. Huge ants erupted by Gage's feet. A few shots and they were nothing but strange meat. 

"Ever tried Ant, boss? Makes a good roast." He showed Vin how to crack the bloated abdomen free and threw it into his pack. "So where you wanna sweep first?"

Vin checked his PIPboy. "Safari Adventure, furthest out."

"You got it, boss."

The huge rusted metal arch soon came into view. Vin saw a bare-chested figure fighting, heard a roar like a deathclaw but that wasn't exactly the beast he saw through his scope. One hit finished the thing off. 

"You help Cito! Kill monster!" The dark-haired man was huge, larger even than Vincent. The stilted way he thanked them and told them of the other monsters in the park reminded Vin of a character from the Grognak comics. 

"Oh wow, let me guess, you were raised by apes?"

The large man's brown eyes widened in surprise. "Not know 'ape.' Cito only know family. Cito see you kill Monster. You friend?"

Vin softened his tone, "Sure, we can be friends. Well, it can't hurt you anymore, Cito."

"No. Many more Monster. No stop. Cito kill Monster. New Monster come. Cito kill Monster again. New Monster come again. Help Cito stop Monsters?"

_Of course I have to help. I look down at the body of the Monster, some sort of deathclaw but with an alligator's head. A Gatorclaw. Gage is silent behind me but by the way I see his lip curl, I guess he's ready for a good fight._

_Cito leads us through the park. We cross paths with a few Gatorclaws. They come off worse. Before long he lets us into the Primate House._

_I always did admire the larger primates, especially Gorillas. I remember Pop taking Vaughn and I to a zoo. It's just a torn, tattered strip of a memory but watching them at feeding time carry as much as they could in their hands _and_ their feet, as well as stuffing their mouths, made us laugh. I never expected to be within the same four walls as them._

_There's nothing green in here for them to eat, no food, no water. Rubber tires that are hard as plastic dangle from rusted chain. Fallen logs have long outgrown their novelty._

_A huge silverback knuckles toward me and sniffs. Cito grunts, low and slow, a calming noise. I get a good look. These aren't like the ones I saw so long ago. These are…like ghouls. Ghoulrillas. I try not to make eye contact._

_In a corner is Cito's bed, a few belongings marking his territory. A letter… Marco, his father. Imelda, his mother. Young Marcosito had escaped a Supermutant attack and found refuge here. Well, whaddya know. He really was raised by apes._

_He gives me a holotape, a clue to where these things must be coming from and the king ghoulrilla, whose name is Chris of all things, joins us on the quest._

_Mac woulda loved this. Just like being in 'Jungle of the Bat Babies' except with Gatorclaws instead of vampiric cherubs._

_It doesn't take long to find the modern sorcery that created these creatures and destroy it. The real monsters behind it all are long dead anyway, a tune that I know too well; the Wasteland's favourite broken record.  
_

Cito agreed to stay and share the park with the Boss' new friends and as they headed to the exit, Gage paused. He wanted to clear the air, make sure Vin realised that he was the one who set up Colter as Overboss, that he preferred to be behind the guy in charge and how Colter had turned out to be stubborn and had let things go to his head - one of the worst cases Gage had ever seen. He'd realised his mistake.

"You're not going to manipulate me," Vin stated. Gage could see his cold, hard stare even through those stupid Cappy glasses.

"You ain't like Colter. That's what I'm gettin' at. You ain't like the other raiders I've run with. So far you make a pretty good Overboss and its been fun runnin' with you. I'm just sayin', startin' to be glad we teamed up, is all."

_And dammit if I'm not starting to like you too, Porter Gage. How far would you follow me, I wonder?_

Gage shifted uncomfortably under Vin's bottlecap stare. "All right, fuck it, let's get goin'. So which gang's gonna go on Safari then, Overboss?"

_Stall him. The last thing I want is to tip the fish out of the barrel, unless I need them away from the traders. If I were a comic book villain, what would I do?_

"You know, maybe I should rebrand myself. Somethin'… raidery."

Gage let it slide that Vin hadn't answered his question. " 'Raidery, boss? I mean, I guess. They like a good label, 'specially if it fits. Whaddya have in mind?"

"Well, Vincent means 'conqueror…' "

"Y'are that."

"…but it ain't _intimidatin'_ enough."

Gage adjusted his eyepatch. "I'd get their respect first afore you go puttin' on titles o' grandeur."

"Do I have _your_ respect, Porter Gage?"

"After gettin' rid o' Colter and takin' out most o' them Gatorclaws? Sure you do."

"Then you get to hear it."

_I hope I'm not playing at being raider too cheesily. I need to be convincing for as long as it takes to get the lay of the land and come up with a plan. Just.. stay cool, be the Alpha._

"Well, c'mon, Boss, out with it."

"Vin _dictive_."

"I see what you did there. Yeah. Clever, boss. Hey, now, whose flag are we haulin' up that flagpole then?"

Vin stroked his 'stache habitually. "I need to chew it over like a good bit o' baccy."

"It can wait a bit, I guess. Where next then, boss?"

"Let's go conquer the wild, wild west," Vin said, reloading his explosive shotgun.

"Yee-fuckin'-haw!"

* * *  
Well, the sign had warned them. _**'Danger, bloodworms!'**_

They erupted from the ground but unlike molerats, were able to fling themselves quite high into the air, their quartered mouths split open revealing rows of tiny teeth intent on shredding your jugular.

Gage wielded the shiny, rocket-powered slugger that Cito had gifted with glee. Vin sprayed them with explosive shotgun rounds, not caring much when he was grazed now and then by his own shrapnel. 

They fought their way to the main street, where a protectron stood waiting, a cowboy hat perched ridiculously on his conical dome.

"Great. More dumb robots," Vin groaned, eliciting a chesty chuckle from Gage.

_…lookit that little hat! So cute. I would have been sixteen when this attraction opened. Still woulda loved this,_ Vin thought, turning a smirk into a sneer for the sake of appearances. He took the deputy costume, shoving the outfit into his pack and the hat onto his head. 

The 'roundup' he'd promised to do was ruined when a bloodworm erupted near The Giddyup Kid. Vin's trigger finger twitched and the bloodworm fell, lifeless; unfortunately, so did the poor protectron. He fished the stamped metal safe combination component out of its storage chamber.

He play-acted along with the Protectrons, doing an impression of the characters from that wild west show he and Vaughn used love, 'Baccy and the Varmint'. The showdown was no competition, neither was serving drinks to skeletal actors. Soon, Vin held the key to Mad Mulligan's Mine.

_I crack the door only to breathe musty air, the now all too familiar stench of decay tainting my lungs. The doors to the old gift shop are barred shut, the only way in through a splintered hole in the wall._

_We step onto creaking floorboards and I wish I had a clean bandana on me to cover my nose and mouth. As I step onto a dirt track, I feel a rumble before a bloodworm erupts into my face, then another. Our gunshots rumble back. At least the stupid cappy glasses I swapped for that Quartz before we came shield my eyes from the slimy worm guts. They also show me a clue hidden on a shack wall. I record that on my PIPboy for later._

_We find bodies along the trail, people that were probably traders on the run. Another body, likely one of their brahmin, is against a wall, bloated like a grounded balloon._

_The body moves. The flesh undulates unnaturally. The brahmin is dead but something else isn't. I raise my shotgun just as the corpse explodes, shooting bloodworm larvae into our answering rain of fire._

_Messy._

_We follow the trail of bodies and bloated not-so-livestock to a collapsed stage where the Bloodworm Queen reigns. A few good shots from my explosive shotgun and she rains, alright, down all over us._

"Ugh. Fuckin' worms," spits Gage.

The Overboss declines to place a flag just yet. Vin gives every impression that he's on a roll so they rock over to the World of Refreshment which houses the actual bottling plant.

The only way in seems to be by wading waist deep in a river of Nuka Quantum. They round a corner only to see two clumps of large, leathery eggs.

"Motherdickin' Mirelurks!" Vin swore, the curse exploding from his mouth in step with the shotgun shells exploding. A few spawn wriggled free to try and nibble at them but they soon had their lights punched out for good. 

_I must admit, this is a damn good opportunity to purge my foul mouth. Don't think I've sworn so much since I was a Private. It's not fun, it's fuckin' therapy._

_I can see a pristine suit of T-51F power armour with Nuka World branding stood, Sentinel-like, behind a sealed security door. Mine. Just as soon as I get the door release powered, anyway._

_The mirelurks that erupt from the sticky blue river are a little more of a challenge than usual. It's no surprise really, they must be on the craziest sugar-rush. These Nuka-Lurks even glow blue!_

_We shoot and smash our way onward. I unlock a few doors at the backs of fake room sets, peering through but carrying on down the river awhile. Suddenly there's a hole in a wall. I peer through and see an Assaultron. My grenades arc through the air, downing one but it turns out that the metallic matron of mayhem has sisters._

"Y'need a hand wi' that, boss?" Gage yells over the last few shots into a Nukalurk.

Vin swivels into the hole, fires his trusty Gauss Rifle several times and hears two assaultrons crumple before swinging back out, shouting: "If I need a Miss Nanny, Gage, I'll paint ya white and get ya two more eyeballs."

A fourth assaultron snuck by, cloaked in a stealth-field, only alerting Vin by the ripples of blue soda moving toward him and the faint hum of a laser powering up. Wordlessly, he swapped back to his shotgun and filled the shimmering air with explosive rounds. The flash of heat as the assaultron imploded back to visible reality almost took Vin's eyebrows. The plastic Cappy glasses melted a little on the top rims.

"I get it, you're a big boy now," Gage cooed as he waded over.

"Bigger'n you. Now shut the fuck up."

The factory was a bit of a maze but Vin finally found that lost Gunner patrol. The quartet of quarrelsome assaultrons had got there first. A terminal clung to the wall by a sealed door. Vin tapped the keypad experimentally.

"No good. Need to get the main power back on."

"Can you see what's in there, Overboss?" Gage asked, squinting. 

Vin shielded the reflecting light with a hand and peered in. "Can't see much o' nothin' but if the Gunners were after it, good chance it's valuables behind there," he called over to Gage. "I'm comin' back for you later," he muttered, taking one last peek. 

Eventually, after finding a master terminal and unlocking doors, he went back for the T-51f. It was in good condition, had probably only ever been used for promotional shots, he guessed.

Finally, they got up to the roof. Two mirelurk kings were prowling around but Vin took them out quickly. After checking the roof they heard a roar from the lake that may once have been a parking lot. 

"Mirelurk Queen! Take her down!" he shouted as he leapt off the roof, firing his Gauss rifle as he went. The earth shook as the giant crab fell under their assault and the power armour cracked old tarmac as the momentum of a several-storey drop added force to Vin's landing. 

Gage yelled in surprise above him; Vin twisted to look up and fired a shot at the chameleon blur of the last mirelurk king. It slumped over the railing as the raider underboss stumbled back, catching his breath.

Vin's PIPboy sang out an alert. Yet another settlement had suffered damage. The Minutemen were clearly stretched too thin. Nothing he could do from here, though.

Exiting the zone through a ruined wall, Vincent spotted a Red Rocket with a giant bottle where the signature rocket usually stood.

"Huh! A **Nuka** Rocket. Let's see what shape it's in and rest up a while."

They didn't stay long. Vin poked around and privately thought that the place would make an excellent settlement if they could power it. They moved out into the Nuka World employee town of Bradburton. 

_The place is full of ferals. I might have known. I find a holotape and a pistol next to a ghoul body; her name was Rachel. Is this proof of a ghoul turning feral or someone who just wanted out? I'll never know. I stash it in my pack anyway. Maybe Scribe Neriah could figure that one out._

_We head back to Fizztop, loaded with loot. After a brief rest, we head back out. I decide to check outside the Galactic Zone before we head inside and by doing so, discover the Hubologists. They're a bunch of kooks by the sound of it but they're paying three hundred caps for us to fetch 'em five space suits from where we're headed anyway. I don't care to mention that the suits will probably just be theatrical costumes. I don't think anybody'll be heading into space again for the next century, at least._

_* * *  
We're greeted at the Galactic gate by the bodies of scavengers and broken robots._

_I dig for clues, find an old story and can't help but open a casefile in my mind. Valentine was right, I could have been a cop. This trail leads through a battery of live turrets and weaponised Handies, past Nukatrons that hurl some kind of supercharged blue plasma… or coagulated cola. I wouldn't put it past any pre-war company to weaponise the most innocent of things. Not after all that has been revealed to me after the bombs, laid bare in the dust of their deceipt._

_There's a way to disarm the militant mechanicals piecemeal, by finding Star Cores and rebooting the mainframe. A cherry suit of Quantum colored X-01 power armor stands behind a thick wall of explosion-proof plexi-glass. Lemme guess, the mainframe needs all its puzzle-pieces before I can claim my prize. Challenge accepted... but first I need to figure out how to deal with the raiders and free the traders. Which means finishing these reconnaisance sorties. Or maybe I've seen enough?_

_We enter Nuka Galaxy and spend far too much time balancing on roller-coaster rails and dodging laser fire. The six cores we walk out with, along with a few I found along the way, allow me to access some defense protocols and turn them off._

_Next we enter 'Vault-Tec: To the Stars' We find the space suits here and there and step through a door that makes us both feel lightheaded. I can't smell gas though and after going through another door, where a sound I can't quite hear makes even my deaf ear ache and my head swim, we look at each other and put a helmet on. They're easier to carry like this, anyhow._

_I shouldn't have been surprised to find the terminal entries outlining the immoral experiments. Vault-Tec, ever the venomous spectre of the past._

_Ugh, I don't feel so good. We find the last of the suits as well as a few Cores and head back to Star Central. I dump the excess junk and pull a beer from the stash, downing it quickly. Porter Gage frowns at me and I suddenly remember two things: one, he hasn't touched a drop of alcohol or a single chem and two, Mac told me to stay sober. He was right, I need a clear head for this. I'm still feeling a little off but we head back out to the Hubologists._

* * *  
"You know that's not a real spaceship, right?" Vin asked, moving his eye away from the telescope. The woman muttered something about 'neurodynes' and handed over three hundred caps. 

Gage and 'Overboss Vindictive' helped the small group fight their way to the junkyard past tough-as-nails rad-rats and bloodworms, then told them to stay put in a ruined house on the edge of the yard.

Just as they moved out, Vin's PIPboy informed him that Nordhagen beach had suffered damage in an attack. He knew that he couldn't afford to stay away too much longer. They cleared the yard of robots, including a Sentrybot, who was too far from Star Command to have received its order to stand down. 

Vincent arrived at the discarded Flying Saucer ride. Seeing four empty fusion core slots, and still feeling a little woozy, he put four in. The last component he and Porter Gage found in the warehouse. It fitted snugly into place when they returned and as soon as the Hubologists saw the flashing lights, they flocked to the old ride, promising further payment if we have bern successful.

_Dara gives a speech, somethin' about wheels and spokes and then gives me an alien blaster as payment. I tell Gage I've seen one before, that this looks just as real. He just drawls 'Sure, whatever you say, Boss. Say, yer ears still ringin' too?' I just nod, though that makes my brain rattle around my noggin._

_We all get into the 'spaceship'. Gage stands, covering my back as the spacesuited joyriders plaster themselves around the walls. I start the ride._

_Ecstatic cries turn into groans and then cries of 'something isn't right', 'stop the ride!' The lever is jammed, something blows, and it stops spinning abrubtly. I wish, briefly, that my head would, too. Then I look around…_

_**Blink.** Severed limbs lay haphazardly next to twisted corpses in spacesuits. **Blink.** The frozen mud of the trench drinks in the warm, syrupy blood as it flows freely from what used to be necks, shoulders, thighs. **Blink**. Coloured lights glisten on pools of slow-flowing gore, spoiling white suits pink . **Blink.** That high-pitched hiss, the only echo of the shockwave, olive green, reddish mud, pink snow._

"Whoo-eee! Now _that_ was one helluva ride, huh boss? Boss?"

_I snap to the present. Take it all in. Suddenly I recall that she said three cores; I remember seeing four slots in the power box and filling them… that must be why this thing was decommissioned in the first place. A cold shiver hits me._

_I killed them. I made a stupid mistake and I… I killed them all. Gage slaps my back and knocks me back to my senses. I hide beneath the façade of 'Overboss Vindictive' just in time to see the shadow of suspicion fall from his eye as I force my face into an empty grin and let an amused bark rush from my chest, as fake as this spacecraft but the raider doesn't twig that I'm putting on a personalised show just for him._

_No, he thinks I enjoyed the bloodletting. He thinks I want more. Something in his expression softens - he's dropping his guard. He speaks and I let him because I cannot yet form words that aren't as incomplete and warped as the poor kooks surrounding me._

_Porter Gage tells me his tale. How 'The Harvester' listened to him, used him all up and then just threw him away. The synaptic shackles on my speech centre drop away and I manage a few sarcastic or smart-ass comments. He had been beaten. That's probably when he lost his eye. Moments like that make some men and break others but Gage? He chose to carry on down that same road, not willing to be a subservient settler but not willing to become that which he had trusted and been abused by._

_He tries to be a shadow, to hold the reins of a raiderboss and reign over the enslaved. He tries to walk a no-man's land in-between._

_Gage says he trusts me and I catch the heavy momentum of that trust in the chest like a medicine ball. I worry now that he can't be cured; that no rehabilitation can make up for what he lacks. He was broken beyond repair years ago, he just refuses to finish letting go but in my book, he still deserves that one last chance._

_We haul our heavy asses back to Fizztop. I dump our gains in the workshop and cook up the raw meat before it spoils._

"You look like shit, boss. Might wanna get some shuteye. I'm too wired to sleep now anyhow."

"You take Colter's old crashmats. I prefer this one back here," Vin said, releasing just a little tension as the blue doors slammed shut behind Gage, then gratefully allowed his body to impose unconsciousness upon him.

_I jump awake, four hours later, from a dream where I was spinning too fast. For a moment, I think I see my disembodied legs lying on the floor but it's only a pair of old boots and some thigh armor._

_I grab a purified water and sip, wishing desperately that it was whiskey but I can't afford the luxury of inebriation right now. A flash-memory of drinking at the Third Rail with MacCready only makes me feel worse so I drop down to the floor for my morning push-ups._

_A quick breakfast, then down the lift. I need supplies to fix up that power armor and maybe check on the traders, which would be a lot easier without Porter breathing down my neck. Thankfully he's still out cold. I sneak out._

Vin pushed open the red door that said 'Traders Inside'. The marketplace was quietly busy. It was a little too early for there to be many raiders on guard here. A few wary wasteland travelers browsed tentatively. 

Each trader greeted the Overboss with fear in their voice, sometimes hidden beneath sarcasm or subservience or brashness but the red-blinking collars all coloured their voices with dread.

He spoke to each as gently and reassuringly as he could. Vin may not have been wearing a slave-collar but the invisible shackle of Overboss weighed heavily nonetheless.

"Well, I admit," Vin confided softly to Mackenzie Bridgeman, the medic, "I didn't like being roped into this "job" in the first place."

"Then this might be your chance to make some changes around here," she whispered back conspiratorially. "The gangs that call this place home are already at each other's throats."

Vin looked around. One Pack guard was on the central stalls' roof at a distance and one Operator guard was intimidating a traveller on the opposite side of the marketplace.

The ragged physician continued, taking Vincent's wrist and pulling him closer, as though checking his pulse. "Now you could risk your own neck and try to keep them from tearing each other apart **or** you could do the right thing and put them _in the ground_. When it's all said and done, you're still running this place from your fancy house on the mountain over there. Except now, you won't have to sleep with a gun under your pillow."

"Go on." Vincent listened as she suggested taking the bosses down and watching the gangs fall apart, then Nuka Town would go back to being a free trading post. He wasn't convinced. Either they'd simply follow the next strongest, sadistic or most greedy and carry on or they would still be united enough to fight together as one gang. It was what Vin had long-feared: Raiders, working _together_

The Pack guard had wandered closer. Vin snatched his wrist away for show and the doc took the hint. "I should uh, probably stop talking about this out here. Just keep what I said in mind."

Vin nodded, his expression surly. He gathered his purchases and returned to Fizztop to prepare.

_The PIPboy tells me of yet another settlement atrack in the Commonwealth. I know now what I have to do._

_It isn't the five outlying park zones that need clearing. It's Nuka Town USA._

_If that many settlements are taking damage back home, that means that our forces have their hands full. I told Mac a little white lie. It's too far for any Brotherhood troops to pick up a vertibird flare from here._

_I'm on my own. I doubt Porter Gage trusts me enough to change his stripes. He's got that one last chance, though._

* * *  
"Don't like Colter's ol' tincan suit then, eh boss?"

Vin tightened the last nut on the garish red Nuka World power armor. "Sends the wrong message."

"You got a point. What does this one say, then?" Gage asked, scratching at the base of his mohawk. 

"Nuka World." 

"Ha! Funny, boss. No really, what does it mean, y'know, like, without readin' the writin' "

"Well, what would you take it to mean, Gage?"

"That you're rich enough to own a suit like that, powerful enough to use it an' that red color? That you won this place with blood."

"Yeah. That's the right message." He climbed in. "C'mon."

_We descend via the wooden lift, a spectacle for all to see. I get The Problem Solver out, attach the new silencer I made and tell him I'm just testing something. I take down two Disciples with neither Gage nor any other raiders breaking their stride._

_I tell him to wait at the old diner at Fizztop's feet. Thankfully, he doesn't ask why. I'd persuaded him to carry nothing, except that old handmade rifle he won't be parted from, as if we were just going shopping. I told him that he might as well live up to his first name an' he just bragged about how much he could carry._

_Me, I'm weighted down by my conscience and a ton of ammunition._

_Nisha the nightmare-queen is first. Her and that psychopath Dixie._

_The suit's stealth field engages as I take down another Disciple and then a fourth, standing by the doors. I enter. It's literally hell in here. Thankfully the suit's filters block most of the stench and I focus on my targets. I know this dance all too well and when I'm finally spotted, there's no longer a need to hide, I bring out my good old explosive shotgun. I should really name the thing, it's earned it by now._

_They throw everything they have at me, ruin a legplate and a blade finds a weak spot in my armor's hip-joint. I feel it slice my flesh but before the raider's body hits the metal ramp, the Stimpak is knitting the cut shut._

_Finally, it's quiet. The two chained victims groan, thinking they're next. I find boltcutters and cut their chains but they are too weak to move, so I drop water and sweetrolls in their laps, making a note to send Mackenzie over to them when this is done._

_If I make it through._

_Mac and Shaun's faces flash before my mind's eye, strengthening my resolve._

_**When** I make it through._

_Emerging into daylight, all sights are on me, a barrage of bullets flying across the stagnant pond. I duck and cover._

_Looking back, it's a blur of sniping, sneaking, explosions and impacts; of The Parlor suddenly empty, Black marks on the floor. The terminal in their private room revealing that they'd grown up in Diamond City! Upper stand brats turned sour._

_Bradburton theatre was almost a deathtrap. The heavily damaged power armour was going to be more burden than benefit, so I exited and pocketed the F.C. As soon as I stepped through the gates, I was literally hounded. I took down those in my way, human and animal alike, sent a headshot to that pathetic feral taped into chair, dashed through the backstage doors and down the stairs, throwing grenades and shotgun shells into the room against the stampede._

_Finally, it quietened. A rabid dog and an injured Yao Guai flung themselves madly against their cages. I did the kind thing and granted their final freedom._

_Coming out of the cleared room, I noticed that one of the bodies wore a collar, flashing red._

_'Unavoidable casualties of war' they used to say...the word 'sorry' just never cut it. I closed his staring eyes and added another weight onto my soul._

Vincent staggered out of 'Backstage'. A few more Pack members popped out of their burrows and fired at him. He took cover, returning fire with deadly accuracy. Two armoured mutts raced around the corner, saliva flying off bared teeth. One went down to Vin's explosive round, the other clamped down hard around his arm, not piercing his ballistic fibre-woven leather jacket but crushing his arm until the bone cracked. Vin swapped his shotgun to his left hand and recklessly let off a close-range shot. The explosive buckshot grazed his neck and cheek as he turned his face away. The mutt was meat chunks and Vincent just had time to apply a Stimpak and for it to take effect as he took cover behind what once had been the ticket booth.

Footsteps crunched in the small stones of the path. A voice, just as gravelly as the path and raw with grief, hurled itself in Vin's direction.

Mason.

"You coulda been the Great Alpha, Overboss! Why did you have to be our Omega?! Talk about a twist in the plot!" The man's tears could be heard in every word. "I woulda rolled over for you if you'd have given us a place. It could have been a beautiful show! Instead…" his voice became a growl, "you turn on us?"

Vin reloaded his shotgun and tried to regain his breath.

"Well, let's finish it, then!" he roared. "No guns, just pure, animal _**rage**_!" His gun was tossed high into the air and clattered down behind him on top of the fight cage.

It would have been relatively easy to fill the huge man with lead. He had the cover, the ammo and still plenty of Stimpaks. Something primal in Vincent responded to this challenge, though. He was a bull, seeing red. An eagle, screeching for justice. A big cat, ready to defend its pride. He threw his weapons behind him and stepped out.

Mason drew himself to his full height, a good several inches more than Vin's six foot two. Vincent swiftly recalled his time wrestling with his cousin and remembered a couple of Vaughn's tricks that had always caught him out. Well, maybe he could use them to best the Pack boss.

The two men clashed. Mason almost forced Vincent's arm out of its socket but Vin used his boxing skill to break Mason's nose. He let go momentarily and both adjusted their grapple. Mason threw Vin onto the floor so hard he heard ribs crack but rolled out of the way of a fist and collided again, not ignoring the pain but letting it fuel his fury.

He twisted, dropped and suddenly Mason felt his legs fly out from underneath him and Vin's full weight land on his chest. Before he could react, Vincent, snarling, had grabbed one of the longer yao-guai finger bones in Mason's necklace and plunged the sharp tip so forcefully into his eye that it buried itself in his brain. The Alpha was dead.

Vin froze, the snarl still on his face, bloodied and ragged, panting, unable to draw breath fully. 

An image of what he could have become flashed into his mind. Overboss Vindictive, animalistic, lost to grief and anger and madness. 

He forced himself to take a painful sharp breath in and stood, releasing the bony dagger, staggering a few steps backward, falling against the wall of the ticket booth and sliding down. Fumbling in his bag, he found a Stimpak and some Med-X and took both. 

* * *  
He didn't know how long he'd sat there, just staring. Not even old war trauma replayed in his mind this time. He may have lost consciousness at some point but he couldn't remember waking up. It was dark now, though. The chems had done their job. He was stiff but not in pain. Stumbling out of the gates, he was startled by his own power armour suit, into which he climbed. Looking at his PIPboy, it showed no threats. He loped all the way back to Fizztop, where a solitary figure waited. Vin halted several feet away, the single eye staring at him, glistening sharply.

"Gage." 

"No. Not like this…" Porter Gage said bitterly and fired. Vin answered with his Gauss rifle and the last raider fell.

"Ain't no one a _raider_ except those who choose it," Vin whispered sadly and walked off to find the traders.

Mackenzie Bridgeman saw Vin lumber in and ran to him. The marketplace raiders had all fled outside earlier and been taken down. The other traders stood still out of fear.

"The raiders are gone," Vin reassured her, loud enough for all to hear, "so that you could be free."

"All the bosses?"

Vin nodded. "ALL of the raiders"

"Even Porter Gage?" asked Aaron Corbett.

He nodded. "I had hoped that maybe I could set him free, too...", Vincent said regretfully, "...but he didn't know how to be anything else."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing follows my gameplay but I don't always include everything that happens in game, nor do I always cleave to every im-game detail. In play, I used that explosive shotgun and too often used it at too short range and lost HP! So I turned my clumsy gaming into Vin's carelessness. In play, ~~I died about four times~~ the Pack were the most difficult and I took Mason out with the shotgun but chose a more fitting fight for this fic!
> 
> I haven't finished clearing the Galactic Zone nor have I set foot in Kiddy Kingdom (my least favourite part of the DLC). I will but probably won't be writing about that.
> 
> The poor hubologists succumbed again to the gameplay mistake I made the first time around but this playthrough, it (un?)happily coincided with Gage's final affinity speech! It was so long between that and the one before that I thought he'd glitched!
> 
> Once again, dear readers, I'd like to remind you that I love to read your comments, to let me know if I've missed any TW tags and to let you know that I may be working on my other fic, Blue Sky Beneath, before moving on to Chapter 25. My gameplay has to catch up, when I have a chance to get the console to myself!


End file.
